Pride and Prejudice and Zombies: Elizabeth's Story
by PairOfFineEyes5
Summary: A handful of PPZ scenes written from Elizabeth's POV. Hoping to fill in the blanks during some crucial points in the movie, although it will vary from PPZ: Darcy's Story. Please Read & Review!
1. Chapter 1: First Meetings

Chapter 1: First Meetings

Elizabeth was determined not to enjoy herself. The very thought of her mother parading her and her sisters in front of the town and this new master of Netherfield was highly embarrassing. For all of her life her father had ensured her and her sisters had received the finest training in order to become the fiercest of warriors in all of Meryton, capable of extinguishing any threat the undead posed. That image was always being stripped away by their mother, however, who strived to simply see her daughters married off and confined to a man for the whole of their life- Preferably rich, affable men. Elizabeth highly preferred her father's take on child rearing.

Dressed in her favorite blue dress, matching blue shawl, and white gloves, she reluctantly made her way down to the family carriage to join her mother and sisters; their father had once again refused to join the family in an outing, instead preferring the quiet seclusion of his study. If she was to be forced into going to the dance, she would take it with both poise and confident indifference.

"Oh, hurry up, Lizzie!" shouted Lydia from the carriage. Elizabeth slowed her pace even further, both to reduce their time at the dance and vex Lydia further. Lydia and Kitty were positively giddy about the prospects for the evening, and Elizabeth could not blame her youngest sisters for their ignorance towards mother's true objective. In a way she envied their carefree naiveté. But for both her and Jane, their mother's words became more and more exasperating with every subsequent effort.

Finding her seat in the carriage, her mother signaled the servant to carry on. Placing her hands on her lap, Elizabeth leaned her head back and glanced out the window at the dark countryside, wishing she too could stay home.

At least she was armed with her trusty daggers hidden away within the confines of her dress and boots. If the night grew really dreary she could sneak away and practice her throwing technique on some unsuspecting tree.

Sighing, she soon spotted the assembly room approaching through the window of the carriage. Jane shot Elizabeth a comforting smile from her spot next to Lydia. Jane understood her apprehension regarding any scheme their mother concocted, but she handled it with more grace than Elizabeth was able to. Elizabeth was more opinionated and stubborn than her older sister, who instead was kindhearted and patient.

At any rate, Elizabeth would have Jane and Charlotte to keep her company, for she knew she was not likely to dance with any Meryton gentlemen. Her warrior spirit and skills with weaponry were well known throughout the village and surrounding area. None were equal to her abilities and talents in vanquishing the undead and because of that, no gentlemen, regardless of their position, would approached her. For who wished to court a lady who had eliminated more undead or received far superior training than they had?

By the time the Bennet ladies arrived at the assembly room, the dance was in full swing. Kitty and Lydia immediately ran off in search of two men of their acquaintance to dance with, while Mary collected a book from her purse and settled into a corner of the room, promptly shutting out her surroundings for the evening. Elizabeth looped her arm through Jane's and together they walked into the connecting room to watch the dancing.

Elizabeth knew her sister was excited at the prospect of meeting Mr. Bingley and perhaps forming an attachment, and she fully intended to give her sister her full support. Glancing around the room, she spied the young ladies present at the reception.

"Well, I say you're easily five times as beautiful as any other woman in this room," she said to Jane after completing an initial skim of the space.

"Oh, stop it, Liz!" Jane said, a light blush flooding her cheeks.

"It's true!" Elizabeth retorted. "These girls don't stand a chance."

Jane smiled in politeness at Elizabeth, uncomfortable with the attention or topic of conversation. If anyone deserved to be happy, Elizabeth thought, it was Jane, the most humble and sweet tempered of all of her sisters.

"They say Mr. Bingley brought a tribe of London dandies with him!" shouted Lydia as she ran towards them, Kitty tight on her heels.

The two girls joined Elizabeth and Jane on the side of the dance floor, laughing at the newest prospects. Jane returned a good-humored smile, but Elizabeth rolled her eyes and tried to remain indifferent.

"Smile, Liz," encouraged Lydia upon seeing her sister's standoffish demeanor.

"I will later," Elizabeth responded sarcastically. She turned back to the lively dancing and spotted her friend Charlotte across the room. They both waved to each other in greeting, and Charlotte began weaving through the crowd in their direction.

Jane squeezed her arm just then and Elizabeth shot a questioning glance at her sister. She wasn't looking at her, however. Instead, Jane's eyes were fixed on the door where a certain gentleman had just entered. Elizabeth wondered if this was the Mr. Bingley they had heard so much about.

"What a magnificent husband he'd make," said Charlotte when she finally reached them.

"Charlotte Lucas, do you think of nothing else?" Elizabeth said teasing her friend, but taking in Mr. Bingley's appearance. He could be no more than seven and twenty and boasted a rich red overcoat on his muscular frame. He had sharp features that were softened by a jovial expression that plagued his face, and he greeted everyone with a genuine smile.

"Zombies or no zombies, all women must think of marriage, Lizzy," Charlotte responded, still eyeing the new gentleman hopefully.

"I shall never relinquish my sword for a ring," said Elizabeth matter-of-factly.

"For the right man you would," Charlotte quickly stated.

'The _right_ man wouldn't ask me to," retorted Elizabeth with a grin.

Elizabeth knew her prospects were few and far between, but there were several principles she was firm on. One of which was not marrying someone who expected her to relinquish her warrior skills once she was wed. Her warrior spirit was a part of her and if they could not accept that, they were not worthy. The very idea of parting with her katana and favorite dagger was enough to bring tears to her eyes. The second was not marrying without affection. Regardless of their lofty position in society or tempting financial status, she refused to marry someone she did not love. She would rather take a poor soldier who loved her conditionally, warrior skills and all, than the richest man in England who she thought little of. And if she never met him, she was determined to die an old maid than settle or compromise her values.

Two older women in front of them then began discussing another gentleman that had walked into the room.

"Mr. Darcy!" one of them gasped. "Rather an imposing presence."

Elizabeth looked over at the man. So this was the significant Colonel Darcy she had heard so much about. Rumors spread that he had almost killed more undead than the infamous Lady Catherine de Bourgh. The king himself had called upon the Colonel on many occasions for his counsel on fending off the scourge.

Her eyes raked over the man, and her heart stirred. She imaged him to be much older given his position in the militia, but standing before her now he could not be older than eight and twenty. He was dressed from head to toe in black, which complimented his dark features. His brown hair fell across his brow, his eyes surveying his surroundings from behind a few stray strands. Even from across the room Elizabeth could tell he was quite tall. Given the way he carried himself, she could detect his lofty upbringing and his elite training, for he seemed ready to pounce on any undead threat should the cause arise. Elizabeth smiled for she could not deny he was broodingly handsome, even if she would never subject to admitting it aloud.

"Owns half of Derbyshire," the other lady added to the conversation. "£10,000 a year at least!"

Elizabeth was too fixated on the gentleman to notice her mother approaching her and Jane.

"Stand up straighter, Elizabeth," she said reproaching her. "And put your shoulders back for when you don't your gown wrinkles. What chance do you have for finding a husband with that posture and a disheveled dress? Mr. Bingley and his party have arrived; you must look your best. And for goodness sakes, smile!"

Elizabeth sighed and took the opportunity to glance back at Mr. Darcy. She surveyed him again, a hint of a smile on her face. She wondered what brought him here and secretly wished to witness his celebrated warrior skills first-hand. The man soon turned in greeting to Mr. Bingley, giving Elizabeth the answer to her initial question. The two gentlemen were acquainted.

Noticing their mother had finally stepped away, Elizabeth turned towards Jane and noticed she was still gazing in Mr. Bingley's direction. Elizabeth smiled for it appeared her sister was quite taken with this mysterious stranger.

"I believe if you stare at one spot for too long," said Elizabeth to her sister, "it'll make you cross-eyed."

Jane met her eyes and laughed, knowing she had been caught. Elizabeth watched her silently and noticed her sister's gaze slowly returning to look at the gentlemen once more. She turned and saw Mr. Bingley had caught her sister's eye as well.

"Well apparently all that staring paid off," teased Elizabeth.

Jane turned back to her and said, "Don't be ridiculous, Lizzy."

"They say to be fond of dancing is a certain step towards falling in love," said Elizabeth. "Maybe he will come over, sweep you off your feet, and give our poor mother's nerves a much deserved rest."

"Jane! Lizzy!" said their mother in hushed urgency as she stepped between them once more. "Mr. Bingley is on his way over. Be on your best behavior now."

Elizabeth shot her sister a wry smile and then turned in the direction of Mr. Bingley. Instead of looking at him, however, she found her eyes once again fixated on his friend. She assessed Mr. Darcy and could not deny his handsome countenance. Their eyes soon met and she was secretly pleased he was evaluating her as well. Instinctively, she pursed her lips together, an unfortunate nervous habit she had never been able to break, and unwaveringly stared back.

He broke the trance first and followed his friend, pausing a few steps behind him.

"Charles Bingley," he said to Jane with a bow, "pleased to make your acquaintance."

They all bowed and smiled in politeness, their mother spoke quickly, taking the opportunity to introduce herself.

"Mrs. Bennet. We've heard so much about you, Mr. Bingley."

Her mother's overzealous smile and batty eyelashes in Jane's direction did not go unnoticed. Granted, she shouldn't be surprised given the effort her mother exerted on a daily basis to marry them all off. She was surprised, however, to hear her mother's voice coming from her left for only moments ago her mother stood to her right, between her and Jane. She also noticed Charlotte had been pushed aside, most likely by their mother, and Lydia, Kitty and Marry now joined them.

She peaked at Mr. Darcy once more, hoping he at least had not noticed her mother's discourteous actions. She released a quiet sigh of relief upon confirming his gaze was fixated on Bingley and Jane. This was exactly why she did not want to go to the assembly in the first place; she knew her mother would disregard all decorum to ensure they were flung in the direction of Bingley and his other rich friends. It was mortifying. But never had she been as infatuated with anyone of the opposite sex as the mysterious Mr. Darcy.

"My daughters, all of impeccable character," Mrs. Bennet continued, motioning towards her line of daughters. Elizabeth shot Bingley an awkward smile when his eyes glazed over her, still uncomfortable with the situation.

"May I introduce my friend, Mr. Darcy of Derbyshire," said Mr. Bingley.

Elizabeth joined her sisters in bowing a greeting to Mr. Darcy and offered him a coy smile. She hated herself for fawning the way her mother wished, but Elizabeth could not deny her infatuation with this gentleman.

Darcy offered a curt nod but remained silent.

Knowing Jane would be too shy to engage Mr. Bingley in conversation, and not risking her mother's discomforting manners, Elizabeth took the opportunity to address the man.

"Are you enjoying Hertfordshire, Mr. Bingley?" Elizabeth inquired with a sweet smile.

"Very much," he responded, beaming in Jane's direction.

"I've heard the library at Netherfield is one of the finest," she probed, hoping to open up conversation and determine some common interest between him and Jane.

"Li-library? Is it?" responded Mr. Bingley with a stutter.

Elizabeth glanced sideways at her sister, eyebrows up in both shock and disgust. She wasn't sure if she was more surprised at his own incompetency towards his new home or his disregard for reading. She always believed any person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid. One look at her sister, however, showed that she did not share this opinion. For her sister was glancing at Mr. Bingley like he held all her hopes and dreams for the future.

Mr. Bingley seemed to have received Jane's silent message, for he soon inquired if she was free for the next two dances. After Jane quietly confirmed that she was not spoken for, the pair left hand in hand towards the dance floor. Elizabeth smiled after the couple.

"Good for you, Mr. Bingley, you chose the loveliest of my daughters!" shouted Mrs. Bennet as they walked away.

Elizabeth's smile quickly faded, and she shot her mother an incredulous expression. Mary, Kitty and Lydia threw phrases of caution towards their mother for her remark. Elizabeth began wracking her brain, trying to think of some means of engaging her mother before she subjected them to further embarrassment in front of Mr. Darcy, but she was too late.

"I consider dancing to be the first refinement in polished society, don't you agree, Mr. Darcy?" Mrs. Bennet queried, taking several steps towards her next gentlemanly prey. Elizabeth wondered if her mother had previously known of his stately reputation previously or if she overheard others discussing the vastness of his wealth and property at the assembly.

"No," said Darcy sternly at her mother. "Every savage can dance. Why I imagine even zombies could do it with some degree of success."

Elizabeth's sisters erupted into a tizzy despite his cold politeness. She, however, remained unyielding for his statement had not sought such a response. With that, Darcy quickly nodded his head, wished them a good evening, and walked away, leaving the Bennet ladies standing in baffled astonishment. Only the good Lord knew what he thought of them: the overzealous mother and foolish daughters.

Elizabeth watched as he walked away. Half of her was happy that he had escaped from her mother's grasp, and yet the other part of her wished that escape had included him asking her to dance.

Her mother soon walked away as well, no doubt in search of her friends in order to brag about Jane standing up with Bingley on the dance floor. Meanwhile, Elizabeth's gaze still remained on Darcy, admiring his noble mien. Charlotte quietly approached her.

"Are you considering marriage now, Lizzy?" she asked with a smirk.

Elizabeth promptly blushed, knowing she had been caught. "I was doing nothing of the kind," she promptly replied, raising her head in defiance.

Charlotte offered her an all-knowing expression but did not push the subject. Instead she said, "Jane looks quite happy."

"I think she likes him very much," verified Elizabeth with a smile. They watched as her sister join hands with Mr. Bingley as they danced to the opposite end of the room.

"Well," said Charlotte, "she should snatch him up…"

Mrs. Lucas then stepped forward, requesting to steal away her daughter. They offered a polite bow and meandered across the floor, heading towards Charlotte's father, who stood speaking with a couple Elizabeth was not yet acquainted with. Having no one left to talk to and no gentlemen on her dancing roster, Elizabeth glanced around in search of a familiar face and some form of amusement.

Kitty and Lydia were surrounded by gentlemen, and Jane was still engaged with Bingley. She did spot Mary sitting alone once again at a table book in hand. Sighing, Elizabeth made her way over, placed her shawl on the table, and promptly sat down in a rather unladylike manner. She watched Jane and Bingley dance until it ended, and was debating whether she should go off in search of her sister or, at the very least, practice throwing daggers outside, when she glanced over and saw Darcy staring at her. After catching her eye he glanced back at Bingley and continued his conversation. She decided to get up and walk closer, hoping to catch some of their discussion.

"Well she's tolerable..." she overheard Darcy saying. Elizabeth's eyebrows shot up and rage consumed her. What a proud, disagreeable man!

"Tolerable!?" responded Mr. Bingley, shocked.

"Yes, tolerable," verified Darcy haughtily, "but not handsome enough to tempt me. Nor any man here apparently."

"Darcy, your standards my dear fellow…" said Mr. Bingley

Elizabeth had heard enough. She stormed around to the front of the table and abruptly yanked her shawl up, hoping to make a quick getaway. Her actions however knocked an empty bottle to the floor, sending it shattering into hundreds of pieces. She gasped and squeezed her eyes shut, praying this was just a dream.

The entire assembly room had grown quiet and she heard Darcy murmur, "Oh that is unfortunate," under his breath.

She wanted to turn around and confront him, but stabbing a rich and amiable gentleman was sure to make her the most hated lady in town, especially from her mother's point of view. Besides tears were already threatening to spill down her cheeks and she did not want to appear any more vulnerable than she already was.

Elizabeth stormed outside, gasping in the fresh night air. She moved towards one of the lit fire torches. Only when she was several yards away and gazing back at the building did she finally relinquish all control over to her emotions.

"Darcy," she whispered between sniffles, "you insufferable prick…"

"Fitzwilliam Darcy?" a familiar female voice inquired from behind her. Elizabeth quickly wiped her eyes for she thought she was alone in this part of the yard. "I quite detest the man. So high and so conceited I don't know how they ensure him."

"Indeed," agreed Elizabeth, determined that any regard towards him was negated by his pompous airs and comments regarding herself. "I wouldn't have danced with him if he had…"

Elizabeth abruptly realized where she had heard this women's voice before. She had hosted many games of whist and afternoon teas at her estate. When Elizabeth had heard her entire household had been stricken, she and her sisters had been tasked with eliminating many threats seen wandering the grounds but they never were able to locate her or her daughter. Some feared they had been completely eaten by undead guests while others suspected they had turned and managed to escape.

"Mrs. Featherstone…" said Elizabeth before turning around to face her. Her suspicions were proven correct upon inspecting her appearance. Pieces of flesh were peeling off Mrs. Featherstone's face and dry blood caked her chin, neck, and hands. Her hair was matted, leaves and twigs sticking out from it, and her dress was tattered in many places.

"You're undead," she whispered in astonishment.

"Shhh," said Mrs. Featherstone, raising a finger deftly to her mouth. "I've come to tell you…"

Elizabeth gasped in astonishment as Mrs. Featherstone was suddenly decapitated; her head in bloody fragments all over the ground. The body hit the grass with a flop and now lay lifeless in a heap. Elizabeth's hands flew to her mouth still working through the shock to comprehend what just happened.

She glanced to her left and, as the gun smoke cleared, made out the shape of Mr. Darcy, musket still in hand. He began approaching her in his signature haughty gait that she now detested. His piercing eyes locked on hers.

"What happened, Lizzy?!" cried her mother as her family and Darcy's acquaintances joined them.

"I narrowly just saved her life," Darcy answered smugly, not taking his eyes from her.

"From Mrs. Featherstone?" she responded in mock surprise. She was quite capable of taking care of herself and required no man to fight her battles on her behalf.

"From an _undead_ Mrs. Featherstone," he corrected.

"I find that to be exceedingly tolerable," Elizabeth replied, emphasizing the last word. She fixed a stern glare at him, refusing to back down.

"Well done, Darcy. Very heroic," said a man of his acquaintance.

Elizabeth wanted to lash out. They _would_ praise him for barging into a situation that was completely under control. Not to mention he utterly misread what was occurring.

"She was trying to tell me something," explained Elizabeth.

"A recipe perhaps?" Darcy jested, his mouth turning up into an arrogant smirk. All his acquaintances but Bingley joined him in laughter and Elizabeth automatically liked Bingley all the more for it.

"Laugh as much as you choose," she retorted, "but you shall not laugh me out of my opinion. She posed no threat!"

She wondered what Mrs. Featherstone wanted to tell her. Granted it could have been a trap, and she was just luring her in with a false sense of security. However, if she had really meant to harm her, she could have simply done so instead of making her presence known. Mrs. Featherstone had resorted to conversing with her though, which further verified Elizabeth's reasoning that she truly wished to convey some sort of a message and would have if Darcy had not interfered.

Despite being lost in thought, she quickly straightened up when she heard the undead groans close by, her training returning to her. She straightened up and was about to alert the others but at the same time Darcy yelled, "We're under attack!"

Drawing up her skirts, Elizabeth removed the blades from her boot and upper thigh, and ran with her sisters towards the assembly room. People were running outside in panic, and the girls pushed their way through the crowd, making their way inside.

As they had practiced for many years, Elizabeth and her four sisters automatically grabbed their weapons and maneuvered into a V formation. Stepping into the assembly room, Elizabeth scrutinized the chaos before her from her spot at the front. Undead flooded the space. Some were feasting on the brains of unlucky guests while others began rushing towards her and her sisters. Her eyes furrowed in determination and she raised her blades into the air, ready for her first kill.

She crossed her blades and sliced open the first undead's neck that rushed towards her. Then, quickly pulled back her right arm, she thrust her blade into another's head, sending that one to the ground as well. The undead kept approaching her and her sisters.

Elizabeth fell into the Zen like state she experienced when in the heat of battle. Her breathing was steady, motions fluid, and she easily recalled all the lessons her Master drilled into her brain. Always attempt a killing strike. Do not leave your back unguarded. Never under any circumstances relinquish your weapon. Excitement coursed through her body as she and her sisters fought their way to the middle of the dance floor.

She stabbed one more with the blade in her left hand and alternated back to her right, piercing the next one in the head. She raised her foot, pushing it against the zombie's chest to relinquish her blade from its skull. Rising up, she released a cry as her blade sliced another female undead across the face, splattering her blood across the floor.

Her sisters had now reached the center of the room. Arranging their selves in a circle facing outward, Elizabeth could feel Mary's shoulder on her left and Jane's on her right. They were all panting from exertion, but Elizabeth thrived on the rush that came with killing undead.

She eyed the undead that began bravely approaching. Raising her blades up, she saw many more still plagued the room, but she was more determined than ever. Without having to communicate, her and her sisters began fighting their way outward.

She struck the first undead man that charged towards her and gracefully turned, slicing another zombie attacking on her left. They fell to their hands and knees, their groaning like a dog's growl. Elizabeth sliced another that filled in the gap on her right and cartwheeled over the hunched zombie in front of her, kicking another to the ground. She quickly stabbed a female zombie in the throat and spun around, driving both blades into the final undead with a cry. Elizabeth released her weapons and breathed rapidly through her mouth, keeping her blades at the ready in case more undead poured into the room.

Glancing around the space, she checked each sister to ensure they were unscathed. She saw Mr. Darcy standing off to the side of the room with Mr. Bingley, their unsullied katanas in hand. Darcy's eyes were focused on her. His expression was one of both shock and admiration. She shot him an imperious glance before bending over to clean her blades on one of the overcoats of a fallen undead.


	2. Chapter 2: Sore Throats, Fevers & Defect

Chapter 2: Sore Throats, Fevers & Defects

 ** _My Dearest Lizzy,_**

 ** _I find myself unwell this morning after happening upon several undead during my journey to Netherfield. My kind friends will not hear of my returning home until I am better, and apart from a sore throat, fever, and wound upon my hand, there is nothing much wrong with me. Please send my wishes to our parents for I know how momma's nerves tend to plague her body when in distress and poor papa must strive to endure her in such a state. The doctor shall be arriving later today, and I am to keep to bed until I am in a state to return._**

 ** _Jane_**

Elizabeth finished reading the letter to herself before disclosing its contents to her family from her spot at the breakfast table. She looked towards her mother and shot her a perturbed glance.

"Don't look at me that way, Eliza," Mrs. Bennet said while stabbing at the food on her plate with her fork. "For it is not my fault she came upon undead or fell ill."

"Mama," responded Elizabeth, releasing an exasperated sigh, "Jane is ill because you encouraged her to ride on horseback alone to Netherfield in the rain. And now who knows what has become of her after vanquishing undead alone during her journey. If she has been stricken, you have led her right into Colonel Darcy's grasp, and he would not hesitate to strike her down himself should he be so inclined. I must go to Netherfield at once."

Elizabeth quickly finished her tea, donned her blue overcoat, and placed a dagger in the side of her boot for good measure. Walking out the door, she set a steady pace for the estate was some miles away, but she was looking forward to the light exercise.

The storm the day before was gone and in its place was a bright blue sky that produced puffy white clouds. She took in a deep breath and glanced around, enjoying the fresh air and calming countryside. The ground was still sodden and mud soon caked the bottom of her dress and boots, but she did not mind.

She arrived at Netherfield within the hour for she did not happen upon any unmentionables. Approaching the daunting mansion, she raised her fist and pounded on the front door. After knocking for several moments, an older servant finally answered the door.

"Where is she?" Elizabeth inquired while stepping into the residence.

The elderly man did not answer her abrupt question. Instead, he pointed towards a door along the side of the lobby. She waited anxiously in front of it, allowing the man time to catch up to her. He walked in to announce her properly to Mr. Bingley and his guests before being escorted to Jane. In her impatience, she did not wait for her full name to be uttered before walking briskly into the room. The gentlemen politely stood and she couldn't help but gaze upon Darcy's handsome appearance while nodding her greeting.

"Did you walk all the way here?" inquired one of Bingley's sisters in a tone that resembled mock politeness with a hint of disgust.

"Yes," she answered, unashamed. "How is my sister?"

She wished to avoid pleasantries and addressed Bingley directly, hoping for a straight answer.

"She's feverish and slept ill last night. I fear she has the flu," he responded. Elizabeth sighed with relief; happy she had not been infected.

"Or worse…" added Darcy, glancing at his friend. Elizabeth looked at Darcy and she sucked in a quiet breath, fear rapidly overpowering her. It was worse than she thought.

"I detest illness. It keeps one in a continual state of inelegance," said the same sister that spoke before.

"Quite," responded the other one with a smile.

Elizabeth frowned at the two women. She wished she could be surprised by their lack of sympathy, but such manners were to be expected from the rich. If it had not take precious moments away from her reaching Jane, she would have struck them down at their breakfast table for their lack of decorum.

"May I tend to her?" Elizabeth asked looking back at Bingley, anxious to escape.

"Of course," said Bingley with a smile. "Edmund, show Miss. Bennet the way." He then motioned to the same servant who led her into the room.

Before turning to leave, Elizabeth shot one more look at Mr. Darcy. His eyes were scrutinizing her appearance. She quickly nodded and departed the room, offering a quick word of thanks.

Once she was out in the hallway, Elizabeth turned to the servant and asked him to dictate the directions to her sister's location, knowing it would surely be quicker for her to navigate the house on her own accord than follow behind the elderly man.

Upon entering the room, she saw Jane's small, pale form in the bed. She was frailer than usual. Her eyes were closed and her body moved in a fitful state. Stepping closer, she could also see her brow was perspiring from the fever.

"Oh, Janie!" Elizabeth murmured affectionately, taking a seat in the chair near the bed. She grazed Jane's hair with her hand before turning to the water basin on the night table. Grabbing a washing cloth, she dipped it into the cool water before gently dabbing Jane's forehead.

After Jane's fits grew more irregular, she placed the cloth back down and began to inspect her sister's body for any signs of undead bites. Her legs appeared to be unscathed, as were her torso, back, and arms, but when she inspected her right hand she noticed a bandage. Unwrapping it, she saw a huge welt on her palm.

Elizabeth sighed in relief. Her musket had backfired. This had happened many times before in their training and, if you looked closely enough, all the Bennet sister's palms bared faint scars and callouses from their vigorous weapons training.

She bandaged the wound once more and placed her sister's arm back underneath the covers. Upon sitting again, she noticed her breathing was erratic and she had begun to murmur. There was a sudden rap on the door, and she quickly rose.

"Miss Bennet?" said Mr. Darcy before stepping into the room, "the physician has arrived."

A gray haired man hastened into the room and went to Jane's other side, Elizabeth following at his heels, not wishing to miss anything and to specifically place herself between her sister and Darcy.

Putting his hand upon her brow, the doctor asked, "She got caught in the downpour?"

"Yes," Elizabeth confirmed.

She then heard a curious noise and saw a fly buzzing about the room. Glancing around, she soon realized there were many more buzzing around. Carrion flies. She threw an angered glance at Darcy, her pulse quickening from rage. Her eyes locked with his before slowly turning to face Jane once more. Without losing focus on the creatures' positions, she waited for one to fly nearby. A moment later she swiftly reached her right arm out, catching the first fly between her thumb and index fingers. Much to her delight the first was caught right in front of Darcy's stunned face. She quickly ensnared transitioned it to her fisted left hand before reaching her right arm out again to trap another fly above the bed. She managed to seize a third before Darcy spoke.

"The wound, doctor?" he said curtly.

"Her musket backfired," Elizabeth answered, looking at the physician, who began unwrapping Jane's bandaged hand.

"I see no indication of a bite," he surmised, his fingers deftly moving Jane's hand around.

"That was never in question," said Elizabeth, turning an outraged but unsurprised glance upon Darcy. In anger, she reached out and seized yet another fly, adding it to the collection of creatures buzzing within her hand.

His eyes glanced sharply in her direction before lowering to the bed once more. He then turned and made to depart the room. Realizing his scheme, Elizabeth cleared her throat, demanding his attention.

After he turned to face her, she extended her left palm and stated with all the sweetness she could muster, "I believe that these belong to you."

As soon as Darcy reached out an open hand, acknowledging his possessions, her face flooded with resentment, and she squeezed her fist as tightly as possible, squashing all the flies. His stern gaze never faltered. Not even when she sprinkled the dead creatures into his outstretched palm. Her eyebrows rose, challenging him to retaliate, but he simply closed his palm, offered a curt bow, and left the room.

Elizabeth smirked with pride and turned to find the physician facing her, a hint of laughter in his eyes.

* * *

The night could not have passed by any slower. Dinner had consisted of Bingley's sisters discussing the lack of society in Meryton and their desire to return to London. Afterwards, she dismissed herself, using her sister as an excuse to escape for a while. Upon discovering her fast asleep, Elizabeth had no option but to find other amusement. She sought out the rest of the party in politeness and saw several books within the after dinner parlor upon entering. Selecting her favorite off the shelf, she shared some choice words with Darcy before once again returning to her sister. She pondered his lack of propriety while climbing the stairs to her sister's room.

Since then, Elizabeth had been napping uncomfortably for a few hours in the chair beside Jane's bed. She awoke abruptly, hearing grunting noises coming from outside the window. Curiosity getting the better of her, she pulled back the curtain to see who else was awake at this hour. Her eyes slowly scanned over the gardens below.

In the moonlight she could see the gleam of a sword. After her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could also make out Darcy's strong figure in the light rain. He wore black breeches and his white shirt clung to his chest. His blade slashed through the night air purposefully.

Elizabeth stood mesmerized by his gracefulness and artistry with his blade. He practiced several maneuvers she was familiar with before promptly decapitating a statue in the gardens. He then turned and glanced up towards the window, as if sensing her presence. She gasped and quickly released the curtain, hiding behind the nearby wall. She had been caught.

A blush rushed to her cheeks and she chastised herself, leaning her head back against the wall. Despite his pleasing appearance, his actions since the beginning of their acquaintance were unforgivable. He was arrogant, prideful, overbearing, and ill-mannered. She clenched her fists, resolving to escape Netherfield as soon as possible to both rid Jane from his grasp and herself from her vexing affections towards him.

She walked towards Jane. Her sister's fever had dissipated earlier in the night and now she slept quietly. Elizabeth grabbed a blanket from the foot of the bed and eased herself back into her chair, trying to find a comfortable position. Bringing her knees up to her chest, she draped the blanket over her body and watched Jane's steady breathing in the darkness until it lulled her to sleep.

* * *

She awoke to the sound of her mother's voice. Sitting up in panic, Elizabeth uncoiled herself from the blanket, trying to remember where she was. When her memories returned, she went to the bedside, seizing this divine opportunity.

"Jane," she said gently, attempting to rouse her sister. She groaned in response and opened her eyes. "It is time for us to go home," Elizabeth explained. "Get up and I will help you dress."

She eased her hand under Jane's right arm and assisted her out of the bed. Still not having recovered her strength, she leaned against the bed while Elizabeth fitted her with her gown and overcoat. Throwing on her own blue overcoat and the blanket across Jane's shoulders for good measure, she rushed her sister out the bedroom door and towards their mother's voice.

Approaching the lobby she also heard their sister's voices as well, and Darcy was now inquiring with her mother if they had all come to take Jane home.

"No," she responded.

Elizabeth did not want to subject the gentlemen to any more of her mother's schemes and made her presence known before entering the room.

"Yes!" she shouted as soon as they approached the lobby. They entered the room and she guided her sister towards the front door. "We must not trespass any longer on your kindness."

She shot Bingley a quick smile and they quit the house, making their way to the family carriage.

Elizabeth could hear Bingley behind her yelling, "Surely she is too ill to be moved!" as her feet hit the gravel drive.

She urged her sister onward and had just sat her down in the carriage before he could hear more footsteps behind her.

"I must protest!" shouted Bingley. Elizabeth turned around in time to see Darcy placing his hand on Bingley's chest, halting him in place.

"Bingley, please," Darcy said.

She decided to walk over and explain to Bingley that Jane was best recovering at home and thank him again for his attentiveness, but her thoughts quickly shifted upon hearing Darcy continue voicing his thoughts.

"Carelessness when dealing with a zombie infection can lead to your abrupt demise," Darcy was saying.

Elizabeth was astounded. Could he really be so ignorant as to believe Jane was stricken? Even the physician had eliminated that possibility. And she herself had examined her body. Regardless, those flies of his would have surely landed upon Jane when the physician first arrived. Who was he to think that his conceitedly biased opinion was all that mattered? Not being able to hold her tongue any longer, she spoke up from behind him.

"Arrogance could lead to yours," she said sharply, shooting him a defiant expression.

Darcy turned around to face her, his face stern. "Your defect, Miss Bennet, besides eavesdropping, is to willfully misunderstand people."

"And yours is to be unjustly prejudiced against them," she retorted, raising herself up, challenging him once again. She pursed her lips and scowled back at him, outraged that he should speak to her in such a manner.

"Come on, Eliza," her mother said, grasping her hand firmly and jerking her away. She threw one more glare towards Darcy before hastening to the carriage at her mother's insistence.

She climbed in and took the open seat next to Jane. She was still seething from Darcy's insolent conduct. _Willfully misunderstand people?_ She was by no means narrow-minded, nor did she conduct herself in a way that would suggest she deliberately misconstrued actions and words to appease her own biases. No, she had facts supporting all of her judgments, and Darcy's prideful demeanor and outspoken opinions were enough for anyone else to arrive at the same conclusion.

Attempting to ignore him, she focused on her mother and what she was saying to Bingley at the carriage door.

"Mr. Bingley," she way saying sweetly, "I know just the thing to break this terrible tension and lift the spirits of the county- a ball at Netherfield."

"Out of the question!" Darcy exclaimed from several paces away. "The security arrangements alone…"

"It's a brilliant idea!" Bingley said interrupting his friend. Elizabeth smirked, proud Bingley was standing up to his insolent friend. "When Jane is recovered, you shall, if you please, name the day." Bingley offered her mother his hand to assist her into the carriage.

"I should be honored," she replied with a flirtatious smile, placing her hand delicately in Bingley's.

While her mother was positioning herself into the only available seat in the cramped carriage, Elizabeth stole a glance out the window towards Darcy. She was shocked to find him gazing at her, his head low. She kept all surprise from her face and matched his stare for a few moments. His gaze was so intense she had to look away after only a short period of time, breaking herself free of the trance. She looked towards the bottom of the carriage before slowly being drawn to his eyes once more.

His eyes had not yielded. She softened her face a bit, allowing some of the pain and inquisitive vulnerability to show through her expression. Darcy, in return, hardened his gaze and lifted his chin. She promptly furrowed her eyes in anger. _Hateful, arrogant man_. The carriage lurched forward, but her eyes remained fixed on his until he was out of her line of sight.


	3. Chapter 3: The Dreaded Cousin (Part 1)

Chapter 3: The Dreaded Cousin (Part 1)

Elizabeth lifted her teacup to her lips, enjoying the warm herbal taste. Jane had not yet made an appearance at the breakfast table. She had been out of bed when she left their room however and was just finishing dressing, assuring her that she would be down momentarily. Her health had vastly improved over the last several days, and Elizabeth caught herself smirking whenever she considered Darcy had been incorrect in his assessment of her.

She still did not know what to make of the man. His warrior skills were praised, and justly so. And she could not deny his handsome appearance had won her over, but his treatment of those around him was quite unforgivable. This fact alone was enough to trump all her other feelings and possible regard toward him and instead replace it with complete and utter loathing.

"It seems there is to be an addition to our party for dinner," her father said suddenly from his place at the head of the table.

Elizabeth was about to turn a questioning glance upon her father when Jane walked into the room. She gracefully crossed the room to take her seat next to Elizabeth.

"It would appear your health is fully restored," he said to his eldest daughter upon noticing her presence.

"Quite recovered, Papa," responded Jane, all smiles. Elizabeth beamed back at her sister, quite content now that the worst was over.

"I know of no one who is coming," chirped their mother from across the table, anxious to return to the topic at hand.

"The person of whom I speak," responded their father while buttering a slice of bread, "is a certain gentleman."

Elizabeth watched as he quickly took a bite, knowing her mother would begin peppering him with questions. He offered a wry smile in Elizabeth's direction and she released a discrete chuckle. He did love torturing her mother so.

"Who is the gentleman?" inquired her mother in annoyance. She placed down her fork and leaned over the table as if getting closer would help him chew faster.

"My dear," said papa after several moments, "I believe you really mean to inquire after his marital status and fortune. I assure you he is both single and of means. We shall all meet him tonight. Now if you excuse me, I have business affairs that seek my attention."

With that, he promptly rose and fled the room, while their mother continued throwing questions towards his retreating figure. Once he was out of sight, she then turned her attention towards Elizabeth and her sisters. Sighing, Elizabeth knew they were all in for a long day.

* * *

Elizabeth had been reading in the parlor when Lydia and Kitty scrambled in announcing that the mysterious man had arrived. Grabbing her hand, the three sisters rushed into the hallway and took turns peeking through they keyhole to spy on their guest, giggling all the while.

"Who is it?!" asked Elizabeth, pushing Lydia out of the way to have a turn. "What is that odious man doing?" she inquired upon seeing him running his hands on table counters and bookshelves. He was surprising lean and tall. He was dressed somewhat fashionably and held himself as if he were of a higher status than he actually was.

"He is perusing his future property," responded their father suddenly from behind them.

The girls turned around and dropped their smiles upon seeing his stern expression. He shook his head, mocking their silliness, and when a glint of humor showed in his eyes the three girls fell into another fit of laughter.

"This estate must by law pass onto a male heir," he explained when they had calmed down. "Now that odious man, Mr. Collins, may, the moment I am dead, toss you all out of this house at his pleasure."

Elizabeth looked questioningly at her father and sisters. So this was the man who was to inherit everything. No doubt their mother had already heard the news and was hoping he would select one of them to marry. Oh the thought!

They then made their way into the dining room to join Jane and their mother while their father retrieved their cousin.

"Parson Collins at your service," he said, upon entering the dining room with their father. Throwing one foot in front of the other he ushered a dramatically low bow. He took his seat and, after offering a rather long blessing, they all began eating their dinner. After the first bite their cousin moaned rather loudly and closed his eyes in delight.

"Tell me," he asked with too much adulation, "to which of my fair cousins do I owe the compliments of the excellent, and, I repeat, excellent cooking?"

"My daughters are trained for battle, sir, not the kitchen," responded their father sternly, before taking a sip of port. Elizabeth could tell he already wished to be rid of the gentleman.

"Right, Mr. Bennet," said Collins. He then decided upon a different topic of conversation. "My patroness is not only the King's richest subject, but the deadliest. Singularly dedicated to the annihilation of the undead. I assume you have all heard of Lady Catherine de Bourgh."

Elizabeth had read many books on the great woman. She had been introduced to her mastery during her own training in China and rumor was she had killed more undead than any other throughout the country. She had since aspired to be as deadly, if not more so, with a sword than she.

"She's the most deadly swordswoman in all of Great Britain," said Elizabeth in amazement, shocked that such a man had weaseled his way into her company.

"With the agility of a black panther," added Parson Collins, grinning. "My humble abode abuts her Ladyship's estate, Rosings Park."

His haughty expression did not go unnoticed. Elizabeth wondered how often he even was in her company.

"She ever marry?" asked Elizabeth, wanting to both know more about this illustrious woman and test her cousin in all his infinite wisdom.

"Widowed, sadly," he said. "She has one daughter, Anne, who is unfortunately of a sickly constitution."

"Has Anne been presented?" asked her mother, no doubt wishing to be involved more in the conversation.

"No. No, Mrs. Bennet," he responded in exaggerated astoundedness. "Her ill health prevents it. I told Lady Catherine that court has been deprived of its brightest ornament. I have a talent you see of delivering these very delicate compliments with an unstudied air. "

Elizabeth couldn't help but join her sisters in a quick laugh at their cousin's expense. She certainly had another term for these "delicate compliments" he spoke of. How could one be so ignorant of their lack of civility?

"It seems that all you lack now," inquired their mother abruptly, "is a wife."

"I must confess, Mrs. Bennet," he responded, glancing around, "the fairest wifely choices may be right here in this room."

With that, Parson Collins tapped his glass and stood. After fixing his jacket he loudly stated, "I declare, that I am enchanted by your daughter Jane and request to speak to her alone, if I may."

Elizabeth looked over at Jane in shock, trying to suppress both the horror and humor of the situation. Her poor sister was frozen in astonishment- her eyes huge and her spoon frozen in the air mid bite.

"Oh dear Parson!" their mother jumped in, "I'm afraid Jane is already spoken for, we expect a serious proposal imminently."

"Oh fuddle!" their cousin responded, disappointment clouding his face.

"But Liz is quite available, and almost as fair as Jane," their mother swiftly advised.

Now it was her time to be astonished. Elizabeth looked over at her mom, throwing her an angered, questioning look. How could she be tied down to such a man?

"Is there absolutely no negotiating over Jane?" he persisted.

"The early bird catches the worm, Mr. Collins," Mrs. Bennet responded with a coy smile. Elizabeth didn't doubt that her mind was filled with visions of her and Collins and Jane and Bingley at the altar.

"No indeed…" Parson Collins said dejectedly.

"Be mindful of your talent for delicate compliments, sir," suggested her father quietly towards the gentleman. Elizabeth knew he was saying this only for her benefit, but Collins' words still stung.

"Oh! No, yeah, why yes," fumbled Mr. Collins, "she is almost as fair as the other one… Splendid."

He shot her a creepy smile before sitting down to finish his meal, staring at her during the duration of the meal

Elizabeth had never been more mortified in her entire life. Granted she was used to her mother stating that Jane was the beauty of the family, but to have this man deliberately offend her in front of the entire family was more than she could bear. She knew the future of her family lay on the shoulders of this socially awkward man and for that reason alone she held her tongue. Otherwise assuredly she would have retrieved her katana and slain him where he stood, for the warrior code required her to preserve her honor. Avoiding direct eye contact, she sat staring at her untouched food until deemed appropriate for her appetite had fled along with her dignity.

* * *

"Thank you ladies, settle down," said Parson Collins he following day. After breakfast her mother and cousin had trapped her, Mary, and Jane in the breakfast room, declaring Mr. Collins had special amusement planned for them. She now sat next to Jane on a couch in one of the parlors, contemplating if she had any means of escape or alternate amusement. Already she was dreading what was to come.

"Now," began her cousin, "I thought this morning I might read to you from Fordyce's Sermons to Young Women."

"What a treat!" their mother said enthusiastically. Elizabeth discretely rolled her eyes after her mother looked away.

"Chapter one. The home..." he began reading, his spectacles sitting low on his nose.

The door suddenly burst open and Lydia and Kitty entered. "We're walking to Meryton to visit Aunt Philips," Lydia declared.

"So long as Jane and Lizzy are willing to accompany you," said their father from his seat behind Jane. Elizabeth had never loved him more.

"We most certainly are!" shouted Elizabeth, grasping Jane's hand and making for the door. She shot her father a grateful look for providing her with a means of escape.

"And Mr. Collins, of course!" added their mother before the girls could flee the rom.

"Oh, well I should be delighted," said Parson Collins, "but only if Mr. Bennet will consent to release me from my reading."

"With a heavy heart, sir," her father responded. She did not blame her father for wishing to be rid of his company. But being outside with Mr. Collins was far more preferred than being inside with him for there were more means of escape.

"Mr. Bennet, I am susceptible to flattery and you, sir, are very charming," Collins said, placing his book down and walking towards the door. "Come along ladies!"

Elizabeth and her sisters grabbed their katanas, muskets, and overcoats before meeting their cousin outside. Mary had insisted upon staying home to read, so they wished to be prepared should they run into any unmentionables as they were down one sister.

Taking her usual place at the front, Elizabeth set a brisk pace towards Meryton. The air was crisp and a light breeze blew through the trees. Shielding her face from the sun, she led them towards the path that ran through the heart of Meryton.

Collins prattled on about Lady Catherine, her daughter and estate during the first half of their journey.

"Her Ladyship is quite fond of music. Although she doesn't play herself, she often has professional musicians visit to perform private concerts. I myself have been invited on many occasions to take part in these particular entertainments. The last musician delighted her Ladyship with the most beautiful of compositions. Her ladyship smiled and stated that they should play for the King himself one day. Speaking of His Majesty, most of the time Lady Catherine can be found corresponding with him directly. I have often told her that her ideas in combatting the scourge are quite brilliant actually. She was in the middle of writing a letter to his Highness just the other day when she turned to me and said, 'Parson Collins, you must marry. A clergyman like you must marry.' And here is am."

He waived his hand majestically in the air and offered an awkward smile to each of his cousins. Elizabeth promptly ignored him, keeping her gaze fixed on the path ahead.

"Miss Elizabeth," her cousin suddenly said addressing her, "how charming you look today." He approached her left side and placed a hand on her back or several moments. Elizabeth stiffened. "Let's look in the shop windows of Meryton and we can buy some new pots and pans, take the place of your swords and daggers."

He then threw her a doting glance and grasped her left hand with his right. She quickly swatted his hand away and fisted her hands, hoping he would get the hint.

Her mother _would_ insist that he join them on their outing to their aunt's home. If they did run into undead he would be perfectly helpless. Perhaps that would be best though for he would then be dead and she would then not be subjected to his insensible self. But what if the next inheritor of Longbourn was worse than Parson Collins? Elizabeth sighed.

They walked several paces more before she heard a banging. She halted in place and her sisters quickly followed suit.

"Oh!" declared Collins, "Is there some sort of trouble?"

Elizabeth glanced back at her sisters and they all unsheathed their katanas.

"Oh, it appears there is…" said their cousin in a way that indicated it was more bothersome to him than his female companions.

The girls rounded the pathway and approached the edge of the forest. An overturned carriage lay on its side. The horses had fled and there were no signs of life apart from someone shouting within the cart and the banging upon the dark wooden door.

"Penny McGregor's carriage!" stated Jane in shock. "Someone's trapped inside!"

Jane immediately made for the carriage. Elizabeth anticipated her sister's move for she was the gentlest of all her sisters and would be concerned for the kind candlestick seller of Meryton. Penny and Jane had formulated a sort of friendship and met for afternoon tea on occasion after originally discovering their shared preference for beeswax candles over any other.

"Jane!" Elizabeth shouted in warning as she freed her musket from its place on her shoulder. She knew it could be a trap and silently begged Jane not to take a step closer. Her sisters soon raised their muskets as well. Kitty and Lydia pointed towards the carriage door also as the banging intensified.

Elizabeth could hear her cousin sniveling behind her, and she wondered how she could possibly be tied to such a booby for the rest of her life.

With a final loud cry for help, the banging ceased and the forest was silent. The door was suddenly flung open with a bang and an undead Penny emerged.

"There was a horrible accident," Penny said, stepping out of the carriage and making towards Jane. "But I survived! I survived Janie!"

"Not in the traditional sense of the word," responded Jane calmly. Penny was two feet from Jane when Elizabeth targeted Penny's head in the sight on her musket and pulled the trigger. Her head exploded in the air, and Jane promptly kicked her decapitated body down into the ravine nest to the carriage.

Elizabeth watched the body as it fell and she noticed a dead deer hidden in the grass, its intestines spilling from its stomach, as well as Penny 's dead brother, his brains thoroughly eaten by his undead sister.

"It appears Miss McGregor wont be delivering any more lamp oil," piped up a surprisingly cheery Mr. Collins. "I must confess I was unaware that zombies possessed the acquired acuity to set such traps. Before we know, they will be running for Parliament!" He then made for the path once more and urged the ladies to follow him.

Elizabeth made towards Jane, who was still fixed in place. Putting her hand gently on her arm she inquired if she was all right. Jane smiled at her before quickly glancing back at the scene and crossing herself. Elizabeth followed suit and they both continued on, walking behind their younger sisters and cousin.

"Have I mentioned how delectable the scones are at Rosings Park?" she could hear her cousin telling Jane some time later.

Kitty and Lydia had taken to the front of the group, and Jane walked alongside Parson Collins. Elizabeth was left alone to bring up the rear.

"So fluffy it's like eating a puff of air" he continued. "Is your aunt an accomplished baker?"

She ignored the rest of his dialogue. He had been prattling on since the incident, and Elizabeth would have taken it as his way of expressing his remaining distress, but knew better. It was just him.

Both Kitty and Lydia had relinquished their muskets to Elizabeth and she now held their bulky weapons in her arms while hers swung lightly over her shoulder. She tried to take her time, not wanting to catch up to her cousin and because of the additional burden she now possessed.

"Come on, Elizabeth, we mustn't dawdle!" Collins crowed at her. "We can't be late!"

Elizabeth was too fixated on the green leaves in the trees above to realize her musket was slipping from her grasp. The strap fell to her elbow and pulled her arm down, releasing the other two from her grasp. Bending over, she tried to seize the weapons from the ground.

"Miss Bennet!" she suddenly heard her cousin say, rushing over to assist her.

"Thank you, Mr. Collins," said Elizabeth, shocked that he would offer to help carry them for her.

"Allow me," he said, his arms reaching under the muskets as he helped replace them in her outstretched arms. He then took the strap of her weapon and fixated it once more upon her shoulder. Stepping back to admire his achievement, he smiled brilliantly and said, "Gallantry isn't dead," before walking away and urging her along once more.

For the first time in her life, Elizabeth was without words.


	4. Chapter 4: The Dreaded Cousin (Part 2)

Chapter 4: The Dreaded Cousin (Part 2)

"Hurry up, girls!" shouted Mrs. Bennet from the front door.

Liz glanced at Jane through the mirror in front of her. Staring at her sister's reflection, she said, "I've never seen mother so excited for a ball."

"Well she did recommend it to Mr. Bingley, so naturally she's excited. It was after all her idea," responded Jane, walking over to where Liz sat at the vanity. "You look beautiful, Liz."

"Mr. Wickham assured me he would be present, and I must say I was quite determined to look presentable. Jane, will you help?" asked Liz, holding up two decorated hairpins that could double as undead daggers should the need arise.

"Of course," said Jane walking over. "After the scene at the assembly dance, we cannot be too careful." She grabbed the pins from Liz's hand and secured them in her styled brunette hair. "Perfect." Jane smiled at her sister in the mirror.

"Jane! Lizzy!" hollered their mother once more.

"Best get down before she sends Lydia up," said Jane as she grabbed her gloves and headed for the door. Her white flowy dress trailing behind her.

Liz took one last look in the mirror. She had chosen a deep maroon colored gown with cream floral detailing around the bodice and sleeves. Unlike Jane, she preferred vibrant colored gowns. She fixed an unruly curl and adjusted her right earing before following after her eldest sister.

Since her father's presence was also required, Mr. Collins offered the services of his carriage for the evening. Naturally, her mother had suggested that Elizabeth accompany him and Mary volunteered to ride with the parson as well. Elizabeth and Mary sat opposite Parson Collins on the short journey to Netherfield.

"Isn't this carriage just exquisite?" asked their cousin, glancing around admirably at the interior. "Lady Catherine lent it specifically to me for the journey. She said, 'Parson Collins, you must take one of my carriages for I cannot permit you to travel in the open air with so many undead about.' She really is quite thoughtful. In addition to this one she has…"

Elizabeth drowned out the sound of her babbling cousin and instead prepared for what was to come. The thought of seeing Mr. Wickham again brought flutters to her stomach. He was charming, genuine, and, not to mention, handsome. He also had overcome so many obstacles in his life and made the best of his circumstances despite the lot Mr. Darcy threw his way. Liz found it quite admirable.

The sun had set and Elizabeth could see the manor glowing warmly in the distance. As they approached, she observed a line of carriages forming in front of the door.

"Miss Bennet," Parson Collins said quite loudly. From the tone of his voice it sounded like he had been attempting to gain her attention for quite some time.

"Yes, Parson Collins," replied Elizabeth with as much propriety as possible.

"Would you do me the great honor of having the first dance?" he inquired as the carriage came to a halt.

The door suddenly opened. A servant lowered the carriage steps and extended his hand towards Elizabeth, indicating that she should descend. She tried to think of some excuse, but he knew very well that she was not spoken for.

"Of course," she said quickly before stepping out.

She rushed into the house, leaving Mary and her cousin behind. Many had already arrived and Lizzy could hear the orchestra playing from the ballroom. Meandering into the room, she saw Jane already dancing with Mr. Bingley. She threw a smile in her direction as she passed by the dance floor and turned around, scanning the room in search of Mr. Wickham before she entered an adjourning parlor. She hoped he would offer his companionship for several dances during the night, allowing her to avoid her dreaded cousin.

Once she walked through the threshold, a servant offered her a glass of port, which she happily accepted. She took a sip, hoping it would settle any remaining nerves and grievances. She searched the room and did not spot him once again. She glazed over her reflection in a gilded mirror above a fireplace and sighed, frustrated that she saw a woman looking back at her who could be so easily influenced by a man. She turned away and, after a few moments, heard a familiar voice clearing their throat behind her.

"Mr. Wickham!" said Lizzy after she turned around. "You came."

She offered him a genuine smile, delighted to see him. He nodded in greeting and responded, "As I said I would."

"I feared that Mr. Darcy's presence would keep you away," she admitted, feeling a sense of honesty and openness already with this man.

"If Darcy wishes to avoided me, he must go, not I," responded Wickham with a smile.

"I have found you Miss Bennet!" exclaimed a new presence to her right. She glanced over and saw Parson Collins. He had unfortunately located her, no doubt hoping to sweep her onto the floor for their first dance.

"Sorry and you are…" inquired the Parson after glancing between her and Wickham for several moments.

"Wickham," he said in greeting.

"Oh! Mr. Wickham! I never forget a face, especially one as angelic as Miss Bennet's. I do hope you have not forgotten our dance?" he reproached.

"Of course not, Parson Collins," responded Elizabeth with a forced smile. She glanced down at the glass of port in her hand, wishing she could disregard decorum and down it in one gulp.

"Allow me," offered Wickham politely, taking the glass from her hands. She smiled up at him.

"Thank you, Mr. Wickham," said Parson Collins as he began pulling her back towards the ballroom.

The previous dance had finished so they took their places in the newly formed lines, standing directly across from each other. The orchestra had chosen another upbeat melody and soon her cousin danced joyfully towards her.

"Lady Catherine herself has praised me on my lightness a foot," remarked Parson Collins as he waived his hands lithely through the air.

"I wonder, sir, how you found the time to hone such delicacy in your steps," responded Elizabeth as they joined hands and circled together. They broke apart and were back in their original positions.

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Miss Bennet," Mr. Collins said suggestively, grinning at her. They joined their hands once more and walked between the other dancers for several paces before turning around once more.

"Dear, the dance seems to be getting away with us. I think it right and proper that every clergyman set the example for matrimony inside the parish," he commented while rounding a fellow dancer. To her embarrassment, he then jumped up gracefully into the air like an agile peacock and landed in his spot in the men's lineup.

They clapped their palms and turned together before taking the hands of another couple and danced in a circle within a group of four.

"Oh! This is my favorite moment of the dance. Now the party is in full swing!" he commented loudly. "Such splendor in the air! A parson may no longer lead a chaste life, my fair cousin!"

"Mr. Collins, please keep your voice down," said Elizabeth for she had grown embarrassed with the direction of his conversation and overall manner during the dance. She quickly glanced around and noticed many people had begun openly staring at him.

They turned once more and clapped their hands together before bowing in completion.

"Splendid!" said Parson Collins loudly, clapping enthusiastically. "Splendid work everyone! Everyone did valiantly! Thank you for your attention!"

Elizabeth glanced around, hoping to both find some means of escape and determine if the guests were mocking her as well. She wondered if Lady Catherine had encouraged these manners or if he had simply never been taught how to behave in such a situation.

"Miss Bennet," said Parson Collins, taking a step towards her, "it is my intention to remain very close to you throughout all the evening."

She could smell a mixture of garlic and shellfish upon his breath and she was about to formulate some excuse when she was saved.

"May I have the next dance?" inquired a voice from behind her.

Eager for any escape, Elizabeth eagerly accepted and turned around to face her rescuer. She could not hide the shocked expression from her face when she saw that it was Mr. Darcy. She met his eyes and the two stared fixatedly at each other for some time before he bowed and walked away. She too fled, in search of Charlotte or Jane, needing to release her tension. She believed it to be Wickham coming to her aid. Not Mr. Darcy!

She found Charlotte first. Or, rather, Charlotte found her for she had seen him approach and was en route to Elizabeth to inquire after his abrupt conversation.

"I cannot believe I agreed to dance with Mr. Darcy!" exclaimed Liz in hushed tones to her best friend.

"I dare say you will find him very agreeable, Lizzy," said Charlotte attempting to console her.

"Heaven forbid! It would be most inconvenient for I have sworn to loathe him for all of eternity. Do not wish such an evil upon me!" remarked Elizabeth.

She fretted over her decision until she was standing once again upon the dance floor. This time, instead of facing her awkward cousin, she faced one of the most amiable and disliked men in the county. Again, she would be the subject of gossip.

A slower tune flowed from the instruments this time.

"I believe we must have some conversation, Mr. Darcy," commented Elizabeth, as she danced past him. "A very little will suffice."

Mr. Darcy was quiet for some time before he said, "May I inquire after your sister, Miss Bennet?"

"You may not," she quickly retorted, pulling her hand from his. "Try again. Something about the dance, perhaps."

They circled around other dancers and joined their hands, dancing gracefully in a circle.

"You're to remark on the size of the room, or the number of couples," she offered, growing aggravated by his silence.

"I'm perfectly happy to oblige," responded Mr. Darcy. "Please advise me what you'd like to hear."

Elizabeth walked behind another dancer before meeting Darcy once more in the middle of the floor.

"That reply will do for present," she said, taking his hand in her right and another dancers in her left. They danced slowly for several paces up and down the floor with the other dancers.

"Do you and your sisters often walk to Meryton?" Darcy asked.

The dance required them to part with their opposite partner and Elizabeth was being pulled away before she could respond. Looking away from Darcy, she realized Parson Collins was holding her hand.

"Ah, what luck!" he exclaimed. "I must confess, Miss Bennet, I find you charming."

Elizabeth danced away from her cousin, happy to relinquish her hand. She moved round around the dance partner opposite her cousin and then passed by Darcy.

"Yes, we often walk to Meryton," she answered.

The dance dictated he follow her and they meet in the middle of the floor. They mirrored the others on the floor and joined hands behind their backs, which created a more intimate setting than Elizabeth anticipated.

"When you met us," she said, starting up at his stern face, "we just had the pleasure of forming a new acquaintance."

They parted and Elizabeth followed Darcy around the partners and back again to the middle of the floor. This time, they joined their left hands in an arch above their heads and their right hands were fixed on each other's waist. Elizabeth felt a light blush rising to her cheeks at the close proximity. His face was mere inches from hers and she could feel the heat radiating off him. She was so busy focusing on his dark features she almost didn't hear his response.

"Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure him making friends. Whether he is capable of retaining them is less certain," he commented as they circled tightly on the dance floor.

They pulled apart, her left hand in his right, and he dropped hers, allowing Elizabeth to walk around a dancer and meet with Darcy once more in the center of the floor.

They both extended their palms and pressed them together. Once again, she could feel his warmth through her glove. Trying to ignore it, she instead focused on interrogating him about his mistreatment of Wickham.

"He has been so unlucky as to lose your friendship," she said.

"May I inquire as to the purpose of our conversation, Miss Bennet?" Darcy asked as he took her extended hand in his, pulling her closer and then back out again.

Elizabeth grew more vexed by his responses for he gave no indication of remorse nor offered any information regarding the matter between the two. She decided to state her precise intentions.

"To make out your character, Mr. Darcy."

They had joined hands with Mr. Collins and his dancing partner once again and were slowly maneuvering up and down the dance floor at a steady pace.

"And what have you discovered?" inquired Mr. Darcy, his gaze ahead.

Elizabeth glanced over at him and responded, "very little," before breaking their hands apart and being lead to the side of the dance floor by Parson Collins, who took her back to her original starting point.

Meeting his eyes, she said, "I hear such different accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly."

They both stood fixed in place, glaring at each other. The other couples were maneuvering off the dance floor to allow for the next partners to take their places, but Elizabeth could not find the drive to move. She wanted an explanation as to his cruel treatment of Wickham and why Darcy believed him to be incapable of retaining friendships. But before she could ask, she felt a presence at her left shoulder.

A man cleared his throat and she looked over to see Parson Collins. He smiled at her and his eyes flickering over towards Darcy every few seconds indicated he wished for her to make introductions. She sighed and said, "Mr. Darcy, this is Mr. Collins," said Elizabeth.

"…Parson Collins," Collins corrected.

"Parson Collins…" she said.

"Your…." he urged encouragingly.

"Well he's my cousin," she explained. Oh why did the two most vexing men have to demand her attention tonight?!

"Mr. Darcy, I have made the most incredible discovery. Nay. Tosh. An extraordinary discovery, sir," exclaimed her cousin. She saw he placed a hand on Mr. Darcy's arm and she almost laughed at how awkward Darcy looked at the intimate touch. "You are the nephew of Lady Catherine de Bourgh."

Darcy glanced over at her and she offered a weak smile as an apology for him having to endure her cousin as well. He then fixed his cold glare back on her cousin.

"I know," responded Darcy bluntly.

"Well, I know you know," Parson Collins blundered. "Please let me do the honor of introducing myself… "

With that, Darcy looked towards Elizabeth once more and excused himself. Elizabeth, receiving the cue as well, bowed in thanks and walked in the other direction. She was thankful her cousin opted to follow Mr. Darcy instead of herself, and she found herself meandering up a spacious hallway. She had long since given up searching for Mr. Wickham and assumed he would resurface so long as she avoided Darcy's company for the remainder of the night.

At one end, entertainers were producing a puppet show. Several were gathered around, enjoying the light entertainment, but Elizabeth wanted to be alone to go over the events that had recently transpired between her and Darcy.

Several servants walked by as she made her way towards the quiet end of the hall. Peeking into one of the rooms, she heard a familiar voice singing and playing the piano. Mary was quite accomplished at the pianoforte, however her skills were wanting when it came to vocal accomplishments. She looked in horror as her sister sang one flat note after another behind the instrument to a room full of guests, Mr. Bingley and his sister, Caroline, amongst them. Jane sat uncomfortable between the brother and sister and their mother stood happily behind the sofa where they were seated.

Once Mary finished, she received polite applause, which encouraged her to announce she would next play a piece of her own creation.

"Mary, dearest," said their father as he approached her, "I think you have delighted us long enough."

"No, papa," protested Mary, "they want another song."

"I don't believe they do," he said, closing the lid over the keys.

"They do," said Mary stubbornly, opening the lid once more. Her father, growing more embarrassed by her behavior slammed the lid down once more, eliciting a scream of humiliation from Mary.

Elizabeth gasped at the scene and her hands flew reflexively to cover her mouth. Tears began swelling onto her eyes from embarrassment. She quietly fled the small room and took in several deep breaths. What must Bingley think of them now? Poor Jane.

"Miss Bennet?" she heard someone suddenly call. She turned around and faced Caroline. "I hear you're quite delighted with George Wickham."

She sauntered haughtily over to where Elizabeth stood and continued.

"I do not know the particulars," she admitted, "but I do know very well that he treated Darcy in an infamous manner. "

"How very clever of you, Miss Bingley," countered Elizabeth, "to know something of which you are completely ignorant."

"Considering his descent," alleged Caroline, "one could expect no better."

"His guilt and his descent appear by your account to be the same thing," Elizabeth retorted, narrowing her eyes. "Insolent girl."

Caroline's eyebrows rose with shock before anger flooded her face. She reached into the front of her gown and retrieved a small hairpin knife, pointing it at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth also reached into her hair to remove the two pins she had Jane tuck into her hair before they left the house. She swiftly removed them and, with one in each hand, raised them up in front of her, challenging Caroline to make the first move. After several moments, however, their stalemate was interrupted.

"Caroline!" Bingley suddenly shouted cheerfully, peaking his head around the corner. The two women immediately lowered their arms, but remained fixed on each other. "Louisa's performing."

"Coming," responded Caroline as she quickly turned and left Elizabeth standing alone in the hallway.

Bingley remained for a moment longer and offered Elizabeth a confused smile. She beamed back at him, smirking after he turned and walked back in to sit next to Jane.

Elizabeth was tucking her hairpins back into place when she heard Parson Collins exclaiming, "Ah! Miss Bennet, there you are!" as he walked around the corner of the hallway.

Elizabeth rushed towards the door Mr. Bingley and Caroline just entered, knowing it was her best means of escape.

* * *

"Ladies, good morrow," said Parson Collins one morning a few days later. He took an exaggerated step into the breakfast parlor and offered a low exaggerated bow to all present. Their father had eaten earlier. Liz assumed he wished to relieve himself of Parson Collin's airs and avoid further discussion of the ball some nights before.

Elizabeth glanced over at Jane. Her face was downcast and she had not touched any food on her plate. Ever since she received the letter from Caroline stating they had left Netherfield and returned to London, she had not been her usual cheerful self. She glanced back towards her own plate and began tearing at a biscuit.

"Mr. Collins would like a private audience with your sister," their mother suddenly announced to the table, looking in Lizzy's direction. She had been so transfixed on Jane she had not seen her cousin approach her mother and speak to her in hushed tones.

Lydia immediately busted into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. "What!? With Liz?" she inquired.

"Out! Out!" said their mother, rising to her feet. "Everyone out!"

"Mama, please, he has nothing to say... He can't …"

She turned around to Jane in desperation, grasping her hand as she walked by. "Jane, please don't! Please, please…" Jane offered her a weak, apologetic smile but continued walking towards the door. Turning back around, she saw her younger sisters had already fled the room in a giggling fit.

She took a deep breath and rose, trying to calm herself and rushed towards the already closed door, trying to escape.

"Miss Elizabeth, he said, stepping too close to her, "as soon as I entered the house I singled you out as the companion for my future life."

"Oh, no," said Liz aloud as he dropped to one knee. She backed away, and he rose again, his face passing dangerously close to hers.

"I am convinced marrying you will add very greatly to my happiness," he said, kneeling once more.

"But, actually," he said, rising once again, "I must add, I will of course require you to retire your warrior skills as part of the marital submission. We absolutely can't have swords in the home."

For possibly the first time in her life, Elizabeth did not know what to say. This man acted as if she had already accepted him. He did not care for her happiness or desires, but rather viewed her as a piece of furniture- something to decorate in his home, all pretty and silent and at his beck and call. To listen to him prattle on about mindless drivel while she is forced to listen and sit next to someone for every single day for the rest of her life with whom she held no affection for. And what's worse, her mother encouraged it. She paid no regard for her feelings so long as she was married to a man of some means.

Parson Collins straightened his coat jacket and gracefully dropped to one knee again. "And now, Miss Elizabeth, allow me to assure you in the most animated language of the violence, the sheer violence of my affections."

"Sir, I am honored by your proposal," began Elizabeth slowly, hoping he would comprehend what was to come.

"Thank you," he quickly responded arrogantly, taking her words as a confirmation.

"I am," she started again, "but I regret I must refuse."

"Lizzy!" shouted her mother from the hallway. "I insist you marry Mr. Collins!"

"No!" hollered Elizabeth as her mother opened the door and stomped in.

"Do no worry, Mr. Collins, she shall be brought to reason," her mother stressed, emphasizing the last few words.

"Oh good," said Collins glancing from her mother and back up at her.

"No," said Elizabeth once again towards her mother, determined. She glanced down at the man kneeling before her. "I'm terribly sorry."

She quickly retreated from the room, passing by her angry mother at the door.

"Now, Elizabeth, you get back there," said her mother, grasping her arm, "and you face up to your future!" Elizabeth wrenched it away.

"You cannot make me," she said, staring her mother directly in the eyes.

"Come back here," her mother tried again.

"No," whined Liz, ducking from her grasp this time. Storming through the house, she ran until she was outside.

Needing to release her pent up rage, she grabbed the first weapon she spotted- the old axe they used to chop firewood. Lifting it up she began beating it forcefully against the side of the house over and over again.

"Ugh!" she yelled in frustration as the axe hit the brick, clinking once more.

"Lizzy, you will marry Mr. Collins!" shouted her mother angrily as she exited the house with her father in tow. "Or I shall never speak to you again!"

Elizabeth struck the brick several more times before throwing it angrily across the yard. Mrs. Bennet turned to her husband and ordered him to talk sense into her.

"Lizzy, an unhappy alternative is before you," he began. "Your mother will never speak to you again if you do not marry Mr. Collins."

Liz paced around in front of them, kicking dirt into the air. As a warrior, she was used to channeling her anger into zombie killing, but with no undead to slay, she was at a loss of how to release the rage consuming her.

"…and I will never speak to you again if you do," concluded her father. Liz stopped pacing and faced her father, unsure if she heard him correctly. A smile slowly crept to his lips and she rushed into his arms. She wound her arms around his neck and smiled for the first time since the ball.

"Who will maintain you when your father is dead?" asked her mother as Liz pulled from Mr. Bennet's embrace. "No one, Elizabeth Bennet! You shall become a poor and pathetic spinster!"

"Anything," responded Liz staring fixedly at her mother through blurry eyes, "Anything is to be preferred or endured rather than marrying without affection!"

Having heard enough of her mother's protests, she turned around and stormed off towards the tree line.

"Lizzy, don't go into the woods alone!" yelled her father after her. "I forbid you!"

Liz turned back around and glanced at her parents in the distance. After staring for a moment, she turned her back to them once more and began to run. It wasn't until she couldn't see the house did she wish she had thought to pick up the axe.

* * *

Author's Note: Unlike my Darcy story, this one just includes some of my favorite scenes from the movie and outtakes, so I apologize for any confusion if you are not familiar with Mr. Wickham. All you need to know is he is a sleazeball and you should root for Mr. Darcy!


	5. Chapter 5: Darcy Encounters (Part 1)

Chapter 5: Darcy Encounters (Part 1)

Elizabeth opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. The room was exceedingly bright and she realized she must have slept late. She'd like to believe that Charlotte's snoring kept her awake for most of the night, but really her disgust towards the vexing Darcy really had kept her mind spinning. She turned her head to the left and saw Charlotte had already risen and, after quickly scanning the room, determined she had already gone down for the day.

Moaning, Elizabeth threw back the covers and sat up in bed. Placing her feet on the cold floor, she made her way to the washing bin, preparing herself to face the morning. She dawned the blue dress she brought to Parson Collin's cottage and tucked a stray curl into place before opening the door with a yawn and descending down the steps.

"Charlotte?" she called as she reached the main floor, her holler echoing in the silent home. She yawned again and made her way into the parlor, assuming she would find her cousin and best friend inside. She opened the door and paused. The room was empty.

She closed the wooden door and made her way to the inviting couch. Curling up on her side, she leaned her head against the back of the sofa. She closed her eyes and feel herself beginning to drift once more when she heard the front door close and some sort of commotion commencing in the hall.

She closed her eyes once more, hoping Charlotte and Parson Collins would leave her to rest, but she was not so lucky. She heard the door swung open and she reluctantly pushed off the couch, turning to greet them.

"Mr. Darcy?" she breathed out in astonishment, quickly rising to her feet.

"Miss Bennet," Darcy said, bowing in greeting after he entered the door. "You finally have risen, how fortuitous."

She offered a quick curtsey in politeness but was completely at a loss as to why he was here. Her hands fidgeted, playing with the sides of her dress for she needed to release some of the tension flowing through her body.

"There are some words I must say," he declared.

"Please, do be seated," she responded, motioning towards one of the open chairs. She moved forward, ready to take the seat opposite. However, he instead walked past her towards the window. With his back to her, she threw her head back in irritation and rolled her eyes. Why couldn't this frustrating man do anything right? He cleared his throat and stared out the window for several more moments.

Elizabeth stood fixed in her spot, confused as to why he was there. What could he possibly have to say to her? Maybe he would explain his cruel treatment towards Wickham. Or the reason he separated Jane from Mr. Bingley. If memory served her correctly, he said, "you _finally_ have risen." Maybe he had been waiting for her for some time. If so, it must be of some importance. Possibly he had considered Wickham's proposal from the day before, although it was not likely considering his hash treatment towards him. She glanced up at him. He turned around and quickly began.

"Miss Bennet," he said, "although I know many consider you to be decidedly inferior- there's the matter of your birth, your family, and your circumstances. My feelings will not be repressed. In vain I have struggled. I've come to feel for you a most ardent admiration and regard, which has overcome my better judgment." She watched in astonishment as he dropped to one knee and said, "So now I ask you most fervently, to end my turmoil and consent to be my wife."

It took all the strength she possessed not to reach out her hands and strangle him to death. How dare he ruin her sister's chance at happiness, mistreat Wickham and then expect her to marry him after he blatantly offends her. He only wanted her to put himself out of his misery? To assuage his suffering and turmoil as he put it. She would not have it.

"If I could feel gratitude, I would now thank you," she began, keeping her voice as calm and even as possible. "But I cannot. I never desired your good opinion, and you have certainly bestowed it most unwillingly."

The color drained from his face before it was replaced with shock and then anger. She glared at him as he rose from bent knee and straightened his overcoat.

"Might I be informed why with so little endeavor at civility I am rejected?" he asked arrogantly, his arms formally behind his back.

Elizabeth scoffed.

"You intentionally ruined the happiness of my most beloved sister," she rebuffed angrily. Had he really no comprehension of her reasons? He should be aware first hand of his mistreatment towards her sister. "Do you deny it?"

"I have no wish to deny it," he replied severely. "I did everything in my power to separate my friend from your sister."

Elizabeth tried to figure out what to say, but could not find the words. Instead she decided to act. Glaring at him, she focused all of her energy into kicking him in the chest. He stumbled back and landed on his back atop the table in front of the window.

"How could you!?" she cried out in fury. Turning to grab some books from the table by the door, she began hurling them in his direction.

"Because I perceived Bingley's attachment to her to be far deeper than hers to him," he responded while blocking the books. "I believed her to be indifferent!"

"Indifferent?!" she screamed. "She's shy!" Elizabeth heaved two more books at him to emphasize her point.

He quickly ducked away and her final two projectiles missed their mark. She put her fingers to her mouth, trying to determine her next plan of attack. Glancing around the room, she saw a fire stoker by the fireplace and made towards it. Once it was in hand, she approached Darcy. He quickly positioned the table between them and she took it as a positive: she intimidated him.

"Did you suggest to Mr. Bingley," she asked, raising the poker, wielding it expertly, "that his fortune had some bearing on the matter?"

"I wouldn't do your sister the dishonor," Darcy replied. "Though it was suggested," he added arrogantly.

She struck out at him with the poker, unfortunately missing her mark. She quickly tried to pierce him again, leaning against the table to gain more length. Darcy, seizing his opportunity, ducked once again and rolled over the table. By the time she righted herself again, he was beside her, his hand on the wrist grasping the poker. His force against her pinned her onto the table.

"By Miss Bingley?!" she cried in anger.

"By your mother at the ball," Darcy responded honestly, gazing down at her.

Elizabeth sucked in a breath. He had heard her mother drunkenly state her intention of having Jane, and all of her sisters for that matter, marry advantageously. She saw Darcy's eyes move from her eyes downward and back up again. She scoffed at him for his suggestive behavior and pushed him off of her, sending him stumbling backward.

She pushed off the table and began swinging the poker at him. The first swipe at his head missed for he promptly ducked, and the lower swipe also missed its mark as he jumped into the air, avoiding it.

"Your character was revealed to me many months ago by Mr. Wickham," she said, trying for his torso this time. As if anticipating her move, he targeted her lower body and kicked her leg, setting her off balance and sending her falling to the ground. She tried to defend herself with the poker from her submissive position on the floor, but Darcy knocked the poker away.

"I heard of his scandalous misfortunes at your hand!" she cried, positioning her ankles around his neck as he leaned over her. She gripped them tightly together.

"Oh yeah," said Darcy in jest, "Mr. Wickham's misfortunes have been very great indeed."

She bent her knees, pulling his entrapped head closer towards her. Once he was within reach, she delivered a swift punch to his smug face. He soared backward, losing balance, and landed atop a smaller antique tabletop. His weight sent it crashing to the ground.

Elizabeth rolled to her side and grabbed a letter opener that was within reach. Turning around, she saw Darcy rising to his feet. She advanced on him, wielding the opener like a dagger.

She attacked his lower torso, which he quickly blocked, and then his upper torso, which was blocked again. Wanting a less obvious assault, she promptly delivered a swift kick to his ankle while his attention was otherwise engaged. He knelt to the ground for a moment, giving into the pain, and she brought the opener down overhanded towards the man below her. Darcy glanced up and quickly blocked her arm with his own.

"You withheld the advantages you knew were designed for him!" she shouted.

She made several more attempts to pierce him, all of which were reflected by Darcy. She could not deny they were an equally matched pairing. Deciding to use her empty hand as a distraction, she attempted to strike a blow to his face. His two arms quickly rose up above his head to block her left hand, leaving her one hand free. Bringing the letter opener between them, she moved it to his rich green vest and brought it downward, cutting all the gold buttons off. Every sound of one hitting the wooden floor felt like a triumph. She turned her head up to face him, rage consuming her for his swift dismissal of Wickham's tribulations and his treatment of Jane. She demanded revenge and the surprised look on his face offered only a slight amount of satisfaction.

She made to knock him out, but he used her momentum against her and she was flung into the door behind him. Her hands helped block most of the blow.

"This is your opinion of me?" he was saying from behind her. She turned around in time to see him picking up the fire poker he swatted from her hands only moments ago. "Then I thank you for explaining it so fully."

She put the dagger in her right hand and began swiping at him furiously. On her fourth attempt, he blocked her arm and brought the poker up, popping the top button from her dress, exposing her corset underneath. She glanced down in surprise. Under any other circumstance she would have found humor in his tit for tat retaliation. Instead she fumed.

Without wavering, she delivered an abrupt roundhouse kick to his face and then to his feet, knocking him to the parlor floor. Grasping the letter opener in both hands, she dived towards him in a killing strike. Aiming for his heart, she brought it down swiftly, but he grasped her wrists and changing her direction. She landed on her side and rolled to her back.

Darcy rolled too and he now straddled her. He had her hands on the ground by her head, the letter opener still clutched defiantly in her right hand. She struggled against him, testing his grip.

"You could not have made the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it," she gasped up at him. "I had not known you a month before I felt you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry."

He released her grip suddenly and leaned back on his haunches. Seizing her opportunity, she quickly brought the opener towards his chest, stopping just over his heart.

"You've said quite enough madam," Darcy said quietly. "I fully comprehend your feelings and now have only to be ashamed of what my own have been." He then stood, and adjusted his vest and coat. "Please forgive me, and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness."

With that, he nodded and fled the room.

Elizabeth crawled to the nearby couch she originally occupied. Before she could stop them, tears began falling uncontrollably down her eyes. She sobbed for his mistreatment of her sister. She sobbed for Mr. Wickham. She sobbed for his blatant honesty just now. And she sobbed for herself, for despite everything, some part of her still wanted him.

* * *

Elizabeth walked with Jane down the lane towards their house. Their mother some ways in front of them stood sorting through the afternoon post. Her sister had returned to her usual disposition, and she had taken the opportunity to fill Jane in on some of what had transpired at Rosings with Charlotte. Deciding it best to spare her sisters feelings, she eliminated the portion containing Darcy admitting to doing everything in his power to separate Bingley and Jane.

"Are you quite excited for your trip with our aunt and uncle?" Jane inquired. Elizabeth smiled and wound her arm tighter through her sisters as they walked on. Liz knew Jane sensed a shift in her temperament since returning, but was kind enough not to pry.

"Oh yes!" she responded. "The glories of nature. What are men compared to rocks and mountains?"

The sisters laughed in good humor, for what else could they do given their current states of singledom.

'There's another letter for you, Lizzy," said Mrs. Bennet, "from Mr…. Mr. Darcy?"

Her mother cast an inquiring eye on her. She met her mother's gaze and quickly turned to Jane, who was unable to hide her smirk. Elizabeth looked down at the letter and reached out to grab it. Her mother, however, no doubt wanting to inquire why he would correspond with her, pulled the letter out of her reach.

Liz put her arm down in defeat, but quickly reached her other out, triumphantly obtaining the letter. Walking away, she made for the only place she would not be disturbed: the roof.

Elizabeth's fingers traced the carefully scrawled writing on the front of the letter. She slid her thumb under the seal and quickly read the pages:

 _Dear Miss Elizabeth Bennet,_

 _I'm not writing to renew the sentiments which were so disgusting to you but to address the two offenses that you accuse me of. I did not intentionally wound your sister. It was a most unfortunate consequence of protecting my dearest friend. Mr. Bingley's feelings for Miss Bennet were beyond any I had ever witnessed in him or indeed even thought him capable of. The evening of the dance at Netherfield, after overhearing your mother coldly state her intention of having all her daughters marry favorably, I persuaded Bingley of the unfitness of the match. If I have wounded Miss Bennet's feelings, it was unknowingly done._

 _As to your other accusation of having injured Mr. Wickham, no sooner had my father made clear his intentions to leave Mr. Wickham a handsome sum than Mr. Darcy was mysteriously infected by the plague. It was left to me, his son, to provide a merciful ending. Still, I gave Wickham the inheritance my father left. Wickham squandered it. Whereupon he demanded more and more money until I eventually refused. Thereafter he severed all ties with me._

 _Last summer, he began a relationship with my fifteen-year-old sister and convinced her to elope. Mr. Wickham's prime target was her inheritance of_ £ _30,000, but revenging himself on me was a strong additional inducement. Fortunately, I was able to persuade my sister of Mr. Wickham's ulterior motives before it was too late. I hope this helps explain and perhaps mitigate my behavior in your eyes._

 _Of all the weapons in the world, I now know love to be the most dangerous, for I have suffered a mortal wound. When did I fall so deeply under your spell, Miss Bennet? I cannot fix the hour or the spot or the look or the words which laid the foundation. I was in the middle before I knew I had begun. What a proud fool I was. I have faced the harsh truth, that I can never hope to win your love in this life so have sought solace in combat. I write to you from the siege of London._

 _There is now a cunning design to the zombie attacks. I sense a dark hand is at work here guiding the enemy, Miss Bennet. By taking London, they've increased their ranks a hundredfold. Now we endeavor to keep them trapped within the Great Wall. If we should fail to contain them and they breach Hingham Bridge, it'll be as if a great dam has broken and they'll reach Hertfordshire swiftly and in overwhelming numbers. Dear Miss Bennet, I implore you to be ready._

 _Yours,_

 _Fitzwilliam Darcy_

Steady tears began streaming down Elizabeth's cheeks. She quickly flipped back to the first page and began reading it again, wiping her eyes after every few words to clear the watery haze blocking her vision. Poor Darcy, having to kill his own father and then endure Wickham taking advantage of his sister. That explained the glares and overall disdain radiating from his person when Wickham was in his presence. How could she have been so easily swayed by Wickham's happy manners and handsome face? Elizabeth stopped reading and dropped her head into her palms, allowing herself a few moments to give into her emotions. Her stupid, stupid pride. She had completely misjudged him and allowed her misconceptions to permit her to act so foolishly towards the only genuine man in her acquaintance. How blind she had been.

She wiped her eyes and began reading where she left off. _Of all the weapons in the world, I now know love to be the most dangerous, for I have suffered a mortal wound._ He loved her. Elizabeth smiled through the tears. She laughed when she considered how she had treated him only a few days before. Oh if she had but known his heart everything would have been easy. She would have accepted him. She would have married him. She would be with him now, fighting by his side. Instead she sat alone on her rooftop wondering where he was, if he was safe, what state he was in, and in what manner he thought of her.

She finished rereading the letter and leaned over the railing, gazing out over the countryside. After she was composed once more, she brought the letter to her lips, kissing the sweet words, before folding and tucking it into her dress. She then made her way down the steps leading into Longbourn, ready to meet her mother's inevitable interrogation.

* * *

Elizabeth clutched her musket tighter to her chest. The zombie they encountered along the road not too far back could be one of many lurking about. They proceeded over an elaborate marble covered bridge and Liz spotted a small brunette fighting off at least 6 zombie men near the water's edge. With her croquet mallets, the girl bashed the head of a zombie man in on both sides, sending him flopping to the ground with a thud. She then rounded and hit another in the head, sending them plummeting to the ground as well. A few more were descending upon her from behind.

"Stop the coach!" Elizabeth hollered over the wind. She dismounted from her perch by the coachman, leaving her musket with him for protection, and began running towards the girl.

"What's happened Lizzy?!" she heard her aunt cry from behind her.

"A girl needs my help!" she yelled back through wheezing breaths. "Stay with the carriage!"

She turned on her heels and again began running in the girl's direction. She took what seemed to be a shortcut through some woods. Moving her hand to the hilt of her katana, she removed it, readying for an attack. Rounding the corner, she came to an abrupt halt and gulped in shock at the sight before her.

The girl was no longer alone. With her stood a man. A wet man. His white linen undershirt clung to his skin and his dark breeches were soaked as well. His dark, wet hair was plastered against his forehead. Shock resonated from his face as well.

"Miss Bennet," Darcy gasped.

"Mr. Darcy!" she responded in similar astonishment, trying to keep her eyes fixated on his face, but not succeeding. She looked at the ground in embarrassment.

"This is my sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy," he offered, motioning to his sister beside him.

The girl bowed politely and Elizabeth smiled, bowing in greeting as well before stowing her blade.

"I knew it had to be you!" she said excitedly. "My brother has told me so much about you, I feel as though we are great friends already."

Liz looked from Miss Darcy to Darcy. His gaze was fixated on her and she could not tell if he was happy to see her or simply indifferent towards her. If a zombie had not begun to cry out, she doubted their connection would even have been severed.

Darcy glanced to his left, identifying the still moving undead. His sister, without hesitation, grabbed the axe from his hand and walked over to the creature, whacking it in the brains with the blade.

"I…I thought you were in London," Liz commented, referencing the letter she received several days prior.

"No, I am not," responded Darcy. "I had to return to evacuate my sister from Pemberley. Are your parents in good health?"

"Yes, very well. Thank you, sir," said Liz, staring at the grass.

"I'm glad to hear it."

They both stood there awkwardly, neither knowing what to say to the other. Liz brought up the letter, hoping it would open conversation about what he had written, but to her dismay he did not mention anything regarding Jane, Wickham or declaration of feelings towards her. For she longed to know what at that moment was passing in his mind, in what manner he thought of her, and whether, in defiance of everything, she was still dear to him.

"And all of your sisters?" Darcy suddenly asked.

"Yes, excellent health, sir," said Liz, trying to hide her disappointment.

"Will you do me the honor of introducing me to your friends?" he asked, indicating the couple behind her. Liz stared at Darcy for a second longer and saw him run his hand nervously through his wet locks, trying to make himself more presentable. The strands, however, fell right back in their original position against his damp forehead. Liz wanted to laugh, but knew not how he would take it, so she remained melancholy.

Liz turned around and saw her aunt and uncle had abandoned the carriage, no doubt to inquire after their headstrong niece.

"Certainly," Liz said. "Mr. and Ms. Phillips, Mr. Darcy. Ms. Phillips is my aunt."

"Well, I'm delighted to make your acquaintance," responded Darcy, offering a smile. "Please," he said, motioning for them to follow him. "I wish time permitted for me to give you a full tour of Pemberley, but alas I must deliver my sister, Georgiana, to my Aunt Catherine and return immediately to the front."

It did not go unnoticed to Elizabeth that Darcy spoke these words directly to her. Her heart fluttered.

"How goes it, Darcy?" asked her uncle.

"Not well, but we have managed to keep the afflicted contained within the city walls."

"London is lost then?" Ms. Phillips said, shocked.

"Yes," said Darcy quietly, leading them through a marble archway.

Walking underneath it, Liz glanced in the distance and Pemberley suddenly stood before them. It was magnificent.

"Come, Georgiana, we must make haste," Darcy urged his sister, breaking Liz's reverie.

Liz walked faster, wishing to get closer to him. Georgiana suddenly broke from her position next to her brother and walked to Elizabeth. Reaching for Liz's hand with both her own, she said, "I hope that we shall meet again very soon, Miss Bennet. Good day."

Liz looked over at Darcy and she could see his eyes scanning her face. "Good day," he repeated, echoing his sister. He put his arm around Georgiana's shoulders and led her protectively towards the house, the axe securely in his other hand.

She was happy he was safe. At least for now. But soon he would be going back to the front and the very thought sent shivers and trepidation through her. She then thought of Darcy's latest update regarding the London horde. In his letter, he said if the undead broke free, it would be like a dam had broken. So they had begun to breach the wall. London was lost.

"If the London zombies have struck out as far as Pemberley…" she thought aloud. "I must get back to Longbourn!" she shouted, grasping at both her aunt and uncle. She ushered them in the direction of the carriage and abandoned carriageman.


	6. Chapter 6: Darcy Encounters (Part 2)

Chapter 6: Darcy Encounters (Part 2)

Elizabeth threw on her blue overcoat, strapped on her katana, and mounted her white steed. Pulling Jane on behind her, they hastened towards Hingham Bridge.

"When were you at St. Lazarus?" yelled Jane, fighting the wind.

"Wickham took me there," yelled Liz in response. "Do you recall the day Collins proposed to me? I ran into Wickham soon after and we journeyed down together. He wanted to show me first hand how the zombies could sustain part of their former souls."

"You traveled with Wickham to the In-Between!?" gasped Jane in shock.

"I know! I know! You don't have to reprimand me, Jane. I am fully aware how careless it was."

"Yes it was, Lizzy. Careless, dangerous, improper…"

"Well I am safe, Jane," said Liz. "Hopefully the same can be said for Lydia," she added quietly to herself.

The infantry numbers at Hingham Bridge had grown since Liz last passed through. At least two hundred more men were working hastily readying cannons, building barricades, or carefully attaching explosives to the bridge.

"This bridge is closed!" yelled one of the red suited men as Liz and Jane approached. The soldier and his comrade blocked their way. Reaching for the reigns, the infantry halted their horse. "It's too dangerous to cross. All of London's fallen to the zombies."

"We have urgent business on the other side," said Jane. Liz could detect the panic in her voice.

"The bridge is rigged with all the explosives left in England," said the first soldier. "It's to be detonated tomorrow at dawn when the last squadron withdraw from the In-Between."

"Our boys can't hold them much longer," said the other. "If the undead of London take the bridge the rest of England will surely be lost."

"Nevertheless, we must cross over," said Elizabeth, maneuvering the reigns out of their grasp. "Yah!"

She dug her heels into her horse's sides and they sped across Hingham Bridge and into the In-Between. A thick fog coated the ground and the sky was overcast, looking as if it were about to rain. Liz focused on their goal: to save Lydia. Possibly they could talk some soldiers to aid them in their quest. They had until dawn to reach the church and get back over the bridge to safety before it was detonated.

"Zombie protocols in effect!" a soldier started shouting in the distance. "One, seek out and destroy any remaining undead. Two, any fallen with intact skulls must have their brains perforated or crushed to ensure they do not rise again as the undead!"

They approached the first checkpoint within the In-Between. Soldiers were stabbing undead and slain soldiers before stacking the lifeless bodies into piles. Fires burned at the base of the brick gateway and Liz could smell burnt flesh in the air. Blood covered the dead ground. They rode underneath the archway through the smoke. Elizabeth choked as she passed through. She looked back after they had cleared the worst of it. The large metal spiked wheels within the defensive wall were contorted. It appeared as if a horde had charged the barricades. Dead bodies still lay motionless over spikes and she saw one soldier cross himself before raising his dagger and piercing it through the brain of his slain comrade. Surely a large battle had just taken place and the unfortunate survivors were left to clean up the pieces. Little did they know the battle against the undead was only beginning.

"It's Mr. Bingley!" Jane suddenly exclaimed after they had rode several more paces into the abandoned wilderness. "Stop the horse!"

Reaching around Elizabeth, Jane yanked the reigns back, bringing the white horse to an abrupt halt. She then swung herself down and began running towards Bingley, who appeared to be disposing of several undead bodies in a nearby valley.

Despite the circumstances, Liz smiled, happy to see them reunited once more. She rode to a nearby tree and tied off her horse. Grabbing an abandoned axe, she began following protocols, striking several moaning undead through the brains. Making her way towards more abandoned countryside, she did what she could to help with the cleanup while attempting to locate a higher-ranking official to aid her in their journey.

Bringing the axe high in the air, she struck a male undead through the brains. Blood splattered onto her boots and the bottom of her overcoat. Kneeling, she wiped the blade off on the dusty ground. When she glanced up, she saw him.

Darcy stood only a little ways off. He held his katana high in the air and swiftly brought it down, putting another undead out of its misery. He wore his traditional all black ensemble, his overcoat tails flapping in the wind, and his weapons belt hanging low on his hips glistening in the scarce light.

She began walking slowly towards him, expecting Darcy to turn around and spot her. As she approached, she saw him looking downward. It appeared as if he was caught on something. Upon closer inspection, she noticed zombie hands were grasping his shoes, coat and ankles, holding him in place. He began slashing at the hands surrounding him and then he did sense another presence. An undead male rose from the ground, blocking her view, and began proceeding towards Darcy. Elizabeth took off in a brisk run, the axe firm in her grasp. She was too far away and realized she would not make it in time, so she stopped, lifted the axe and threw it at the burly zombie. The axe wedged itself into the back of its skull, and the undead fell to the ground with a thud. She glanced up slowly and saw Darcy staring in awe at her. His mouth was agape and his eyes were wide with shock.

Panting, she nervously said the first thing that came to her mind, "Potter's field." Brandishing her sword, she readied herself to aid him in his task.

"Yes. Quite," responded Darcy. They both stared at each other for some time before he quickly added in confusion, "Pardon?"

"This," said Elizabeth a smile moving to her lips, motioning towards the ground, "what we're standing on. It's an unmarked zombie graveyard."

"Yes. Of course," said Darcy slowly comprehending her meaning.

Sensing that was to be the end of their conversation, Elizabeth broke eye contact and lifted her blade, slicing through the brains of the undead at their feet. They worked in silence for some time and then the pair wordlessly walked side-by-side back to where Elizabeth tied her horse. She untied the reigns and they continued the short distance back to the checkpoint.

They had walked half the distance back when Darcy halted in his tracks and turned towards her. "Miss Bennet," he said in admonishment, "what possible cause could the two of you have for leaving Hertfordshire and entering into the In-Between?"

Liz wondered how he knew Jane had accompanied her, but then saw her walking with Bingley only a short distance away. She continued walking.

"If adventure will not befall a young lady in her own village," she responded cheekily, "she must seek them abroad."

Darcy remained silent, willing the truth from her. Liz realized her knew her disposition better than she thought possible. He understood she would not put her elder sister in danger unless absolutely necessary, for she was headstrong and determined, but not foolish. Once more, he was the highest-ranking official at the checkpoint, and she needed to confide in him if she were to receive any aid in her sister's recovery.

Liz suddenly felt a soft touch on her hand. Glancing up at Darcy, she relinquished control of the reigns over to him. Elizabeth wrapped her arms around herself and sighed, fighting back the tears she had been holding in since hearing the news.

"We had no choice," she began. "Wickham has run off with Lydia. He's taken her to where zombie aristocrats congregate: St. Lazarus."

They had made it back to the checkpoint and Darcy tied the reigns up once more. Elizabeth walked to a nearby fire to keep warm.

"St. Lazarus?" Darcy confirmed once he stood beside her.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

"I know it well," he continued. "I saw it razed to the ground five days ago. Your sister couldn't possibly have survived."

Elizabeth's eyes widened with shock and she searched his face for falsehoods, but saw only genuineness. She began shaking her head, not willing to believe it. The tears started falling from her eyes and she turned her back to Darcy, not wanting him to see her in such a vulnerable state.

"I'm profoundly sorry for your loss," he added sincerely.

"Colonel Darcy!" a soldier suddenly shouted, coming towards them.

Lydia was dead. Whatever was she going to tell her parents? How could she break the news to Jane? She failed her mission. It was because of her Lydia was dead. She should have told her parents and sisters about his true character as soon as she read the letter. If they had some sort of warning, Lydia would never have been so susceptible. Surely their mother would take it the worst, for Lydia was her favorite. Her nerves would take hold over her body and then she may never recover from the loss. And Kitty would be at a loss without her best friend. And Jane would blame herself. And Papa would go after Wickham.

"I fear I must depart for Hingham Bridge immediately," Darcy suddenly said addressing her.

"Of course," she replied, sniffling, but Liz couldn't bring herself to look at him. Darcy turned and walked away shortly thereafter, the soldier following closely at his heels.

After a few moments, Liz turned and watched his retreating figure. Once he was out of sight, she turned back towards the fire. Watching the flames dance in the wind, she thought of her departed sister. Oh how she wished she could turn back time to but minutes ago when there was some semblance of hope. She closed her eyes, trying to focus. She silently prayed that her sister's soul had found peace and that her mother would not, in turn, die of heartbreak. Finally she prayed that Wickham was within St. Lazarus when it was destroyed so no one else could be subjected to his schemes. Her grip tightened on the hilt of her katana. She then thought of Darcy. He had so quickly departed from her after revealing the circumstances surrounding Lydia's death. Surly if he felt the way he declared in his letter, he would have said something more. Anything to give her some semblance of hope. _I may have lost my heart_ , she thought, _but not my self-control_. Straightening up, she wiped the tears from her eyes and went in search of Jane.

* * *

"I fear I should not have confided in Darcy," she admitted to Jane some time later, grasping their horse's reigns. The girls were making to depart back towards the safety of Hingham Bridge. Jane stood stroking the steed's neck.

"Fear the hordes of ravenous unmentionables that are swarming our way," Jane responded. "Liz, London has already fallen and the Grand Barrier burns as we speak..."

Elizabeth glanced around, ready to abandon the depressing nature of the In-Between, yet frightened to deliver the news to their parents. Her eyes scanned over the men surrounding them and they landed on Bingley, who was only a short distance from them. His face was worry some, and he kept glancing down at his pocket watch and then towards the vastness of the In-Between. Elizabeth followed his gaze and realized it was up the same path her and Wickham had traveled many months ago. Abandoning Jane, she walked over to Bingley and he offered a forced smile. His writhing palms and uncharacteristic muteness had not gone unnoticed.

"Hingham Bridge is behind us," said Liz bluntly. His face fell. "London's over there. Which direction are you looking in, Mr. Bingley?"

Bingley glanced once more in the direction of his best friend.

"St. Lazarus?" Elizabeth said in astonishment. Bingley looked guiltily at her. "Darcy lied…"

"To spare you!" said Bingley, touching her arm gently. "He'd risk _anything_ for you, Miss Bennet."

Elizabeth turned on her heels and ran towards her horse. Quickly mounting, she urged it forward in the direction of the church.

"Lizzy?" yelled Jane after her. "Lizzy!"

"Yah!" Liz hollered, encouraging the horse further. Darcy had a huge lead on her. She needed to be there fighting by his side against Wickham, and she had to bring him back to safety before he was isolated with the undead forever.

As Elizabeth rode on into the night, various memories flooding her mind. Some were between herself and Lydia. She smiled at the thought of her sister's lively disposition, and Liz prayed that would never change. Especially after these recent events. She prayed Darcy reached her in time. Visions of herself and Darcy, including their battle in Parson Collins' parsonage, then came to her thoughts. Oh how it would have been so easy if she had known his heart then. She also thought of her father. During her early years of training, he often had to reprimand Liz's inquisitive nature. More times than she cared to admit her father would answer, "time will explain," to questions he could not yet answer to a girl of seven years. Never had she felt that was more relevant as it was now. Time will explain. She could see it now so clearly, and her heart did whisper that he had done it for her. Darcy lying about St. Lazarus and Lydia being alive. It was all to keep her safe. To keep her sisters safe. He knew she would return to Hingham Bridge, to safety, if she believed her sister was dead. Tears once again fell from her eyes. He would risk himself in an impossible mission to save her sister, all for her.

Liz cleared her eyes and dug her heels into the horse's sides, only to slow it down moments later. London was burning before her. The skyline glowed amber and dark smoke faded upward into the black sky. In the glow, she could see undead falling over The Wall, breaking free of London.

"My God," she breathed.

A sound in the thicket behind her grabbed her attention. Lydia burst forth on a black steed, racing in the direction of Hingham Bridge.

"Lydia!" Liz screamed, trying to gain her attention. "Lydia! …Lydia!"

Lydia continued on, not hearing her sister's frantic cries.

Liz stared after her until a horde of unmentionables unexpectedly ran over a nearby hill and began following in Lydia's direction. Liz had never seen so many zombies in her life. There must have been at least five hundred coming over the ridge. She removed her katana and raised it high; more determined than ever to reach St. Lazarus, for it did not go unnoticed upon which steed her sister sat.

Darcy had given up his only means of escape for her sister and she persevered on through the noisy St. Lazarus horde, determined to save him. She was almost there.

Elizabeth tore through the woods, happy the undead were not focused on her. The sky was beginning to lighten and she saw a red coat moving in the distance. Wickham. She galloped faster towards him. She saw his right arm was extended high in the air, his own katana firm in his grasp. Wickham's other hand was extended out in front of him, choking the dark figure that knelt before him. He was going to deliver a killing strike. _Darcy. No._

Liz approached and raised her blade, cutting through Wickham's upper arm as she passed. She quickly turned her horse and rounded back, trampling Wickham under the horse's hooves. Darcy slumped downward, gasping in air.

"Make haste, Mr. Darcy!" Liz cried, but he did not move. Liz turned around and saw Wickham still lying lifeless on the ground behind her. She extended her hand to Darcy. "Take it," she ordered. He dazedly glanced up at her and finally took her hand. She removed her foot from the stirrup and he hoisted himself up behind her.

"Hold on," she said, before springing the horse back to life. His arms wound tightly around her torso, and she enjoyed the warmth of his body behind her to battle the cold night air. They caught up to the tail end of the horde and weaved through. If they were to have any chance of survival, they would have to beat them to the bridge.

Liz could make out the bridge in the distance when Darcy's head fell against her back. She removed her left hand from the reigns and squeezed one of his hand at her stomach. "We're almost there," she said encouragingly before moving her hand back to its original position.

They made their way in front of the intimidating horde and were approaching Hingham Bridge when she heard an officer begin the countdown. Liz encouraged the horse one last time as they began crossing.

"Three!"

"Two!"

"One!"

The ground beneath them began to rumble and Elizabeth's ears went deaf from the blast. Debris began hitting her, but they carried on until they were engulfed in smoke and rubble. One final explosion sent her flying forward into the air.

* * *

Liz coughed, gasping for air. She opened her eyes and stared at the gray sky. Tiny pieces of ash floated above her and smoke was thick in the air. Her head ached, but she moved it around anyways, trying frantically to find Darcy. She spotted him lying lifeless several feet away. She got to her knees and began crawling towards him, coughing from the exertion and unclean air. The rubble tore through her pantaloons, leaving her knees scarred and bleeding, but she didn't care.

"Mr. Darcy?' she choked out when she reached him. He lay unconscious on his stomach, facing away from her. Elizabeth leaned over Darcy, trying to see if he was breathing. His face was scratched and partially caked with blood. Rubble rest overtop of him. Moving one hand to his head and the other his arm, she carefully flipped him onto his back. Her hand caressed his face, but he still lay impassive and unmoving.

"Mr. Darcy?" she said more urgently after he did not respond. Using both hands she carefully shook his head, willing him to life again. "Mr. Darcy!" she said, panicking. She moved her hand to his chest and inclined her ear over his mouth, both confirming the worst. Elizabeth began sobbing and searched around hysterically for any aid, but they were all alone on what was left of Hingham Bridge. Looking down at him again, she tried once again to feel any movement in his chest and breath from his mouth.

"No," she sobbed, falling against Darcy's chest. She continued letting the tears fall for some time before lifting her head again to gaze at him, her hand caressing his cheek. "From the first moment I beheld you," she admitted, "my heart was irrevocably gone."

She leaned forward and kissed him.

* * *

"Lizzy! …Lizzy!" Elizabeth lifted her head from Darcy's unmoving chest and glanced in the direction of the voice. Jane appeared from the cloud of smoke. "Oh, Lizzy!" she sighed in relief upon seeing her.

Elizabeth clung to Darcy's lifeless body and stared helplessly at her sister, silently willing her to understand her agony. Jane's face softened upon recognizing Darcy's lifeless form. She knelt down next to Elizabeth and took her into her arms.

"Jane!" Bingley shouted, stopping short upon seeing Darcy. "No," he said, choking back a sob. His eyes met Elizabeth's.

"We need to move," Jane said after a few moments. "The rest of the bridge could collapse at any moment."

Elizabeth nodded and turned back towards Darcy once more. A cannon sounded and soon all the sounds of war returned, encouraging Liz to spring into action.

"Mr. Bingley," said Liz, "help me get him up."

Bingley rushed over and together they half carried, half dragged Darcy towards one of the tents. Lydia ran over to them.

"Oh no!" she cried, stopping short. Jane wrapped her arms around her youngest sister, attempting to console her. They all proceeded into the tent.

"What happened, Lizzy?" inquired Jane after they laid a still immobile Darcy down on a cot. Jane began examining Darcy, looking for any signs of life. Bingley, Lydia, and Liz stood behind her, frozen.

"By the time I reached him at St. Lazarus the undead congregation had completed their transformation and were en route to the bridge," Liz began, her gaze not faltering from Darcy's face. "I saw Lydia pass by on Darcy's steed and knew he had to be confronting Wickham. I happened upon them in the woods near the church. Wickham was choking Darcy and was about to run him through. With the help of my horse and katana, Wickham was then incapacitated and we hurried off to the bridge."

Bingley and Jane turned and stared wide eyed at her. "So, Wickham is dead?" asked Lydia.

"I believe so," responded Elizabeth. "Although we did not stay long enough to confirm it." Bingley offered a curt nod in approval and she heard Lydia sigh in relief. "Jane, anything?"

Her sister turned from where she knelt next to the cot and shot a hopeless glance towards Liz. "I am sorry…"

"No, we need to get a doctor!" Liz said frantically. "Another opinion."

"Liz.." Jane began.

"No, Jane! No! I will not accept this!" Elizabeth shouted through watery eyes. "Mr. Bingley, is there anyone on hand who can inspect him?"

Bingley nodded once again, but did not appear hopeful. He silently left the tent and came back a short time later with a physician. The man looked done in. His body was caked in both dry and fresh blood, and his hands were trembling from overuse of his nerves and muscles. To Lizzy's dismay, he smelled like death as he walked past.

"Colonel!" the physician said upon seeing Darcy. Bingley must not have informed him who his patient was. The doctor began a series of tests to examine his vitals. After checking his chest, mouth, and nose for any signs of life, he glanced over at Bingley, his face displaying the same sorrow Jane's did only minutes ago.

Liz couldn't stay in the tent any longer. It seemed as if all the air had been sucked out of the room and she started hyperventilating. Stumbling, she fled and ran towards the woods. Grasping onto a tree trunk for support, she gulped in wheezing breaths. After several minutes, she had regained control back of her breathing and slid the ground. Pulling her knees up, she wrapped her arms around herself and cried.

When she opened her eyes again the sun was setting and Jane was rushing towards her.

"LIzzy!" Jane shouted. "Lizzy! He's alive!"

Elizabeth quickly stood up and ran towards the tent.

* * *

Liz sat in Lady Catherine's throne room. Her and her sisters occupied chairs on one side of the space and Bingley's sister, Darcy's cousin, and Georgiana were on the other. Liz sensed someone staring at her and she glanced around, finding Caroline's cold gaze. Over the past several weeks Caroline had taken every opportunity to glare at Lizzy, but Liz promptly ignored her childish behavior, mostly for Jane's sake. Her and Bingley had been as happy as she had ever seen them and Liz would not allow anything to stand in their way this time.

Elizabeth turned her attention back to the rifle in her hand. Lifting the cloth once more to her weapon. The ladies had spent the morning canvasing the countryside, killing any undead close by Rosings and they now sat cleaning their weapons, readying them for their next use.

Bingley and Georgiana had been gracious enough to provide her with updates regarding Darcy's condition. Georgiana, in particular, had been a constant presence at Elizabeth's side over the past weeks and Elizabeth had come to feel protective over the sweet girl.

"Lady Catherine," her mother said breaking the silence from her place beside Darcy's aunt, "might I take this moment to compliment you on your pantaloons? And your eye patch, it's very fetching. Is it function or fashion?"

"Function," Lady Catherine responded matter-of-factly.

Lydia burst into the room then, curtsying at her ladyship in greeting. She ran up to her sisters, specifically Kitty, and baited, "Guess who's speaking with Papa in the library! It's…"

Unfortunately her sister was cut off by Franklin, Lady Catherine's butler, who announced Mr. Bingley's presence into the room.

"Lady Catherine," Bingley said, bowing low. "This is all rather embarrassing, but I would like to request the privilege of speaking with Miss Jane. Alone."

Elizabeth shared an enthusiastic smile with Jane before looking at their mother. She looked on the verge of tears from happiness, and she fidgeted in her seat, wanting to say something, but wisely choosing to remain silent. Liz saw Lady Catherine nod in approval.

Jane rose and took Bingley's outstretched hand. Liz watched the pair walk out of the room and then glanced at her mother once more. They exchanged affectionate smiles. It was during that moment that Franklin reentered the room.

"Mr. Darcy, ma'am," he announced.

Elizabeth's hand flew instinctively to her throat in shock, and she quickly turned first to Georgiana, who smirked at her, and then to the entryway. Georgiana had told her Darcy was alert, but she did not anticipate him to make an appearance so soon. Oh that girl's schemes. She felt nervous, anxious, and overwhelmed. When he walked through the doorway she felt a new level of apprehension consume her. He was in his typical black ensemble and she sighed in relief upon seeing that his scars and bruises had cleared.

"Ah. My favorite nephew," said Lady Catherine, "you lay unconscious for so long that when we'd heard you'd risen, we'd feared you'd joined the ranks of the undead. Any word from the canal?"

"It's holding for the time being," he responded. He glanced over at Elizabeth and their eyes met briefly.

"YES!" they heard from the hallway. She saw Darcy smile and her heart told her that this too was for her benefit.

"Jane said yes!" Lydia shrieked.

"Would you excuse me?" Mrs. Bennet asked lady Catherine, not waiting for an answer before rushing out with the other ladies to congratulate the newly engaged couple.

"Quick! Quick!" Lydia urged everyone.

Elizabeth remained seated, still stunned by his very presence. She heard all her sisters giggling with joy in the hallway, offering their heartfelt congratulations to their eldest sister. Bingley's sister and Anne left with Georgiana. After Lady Catherine rose up to leave, Elizabeth followed, uneasy about being alone in the same room with him.

She had been headstrong in the In-Between and she never thanked him for all he had done for Lydia and herself. She felt insignificant in his presence and she feared what he would say. Elizabeth ran her palms over the fabric of her gown, trying to rid them of the excess moisture that started to accumulate. She dare not glance at him as she passed, instead her eyes remained fixed on the entryway. Half of her wanted to stay and the other half wished to flee. She decided to make the decision his.

"Miss Bennet," he said quietly as she walked by.

She took in a deep breath and faced him, knowing she could not refuse him anything. For she owed him so much and Liz felt so inadequate. So exposed.

"Mr. Darcy. You look as though you're fully mended," Elizabeth offered.

"I am. Thank you."

She smiled politely at him, wanting to say so much more. Instead she looked at the tiled floor, afraid her face would give her away. She never wanted something… someone… so much and she was unsure if he was still within her grasp.

"If it wasn't for you," he continued, "I'd have surely perished. You have saved me in more ways than one… What you said to me on Hingham Bridge…"

Elizabeth glanced up at him in astonishment and met his gaze. "You heard me?" she gasped. A blush fell upon her cheeks as she also wondered if he felt her kiss him.

"I did… it gave me hope," Darcy admitted.

"Of what?" she asked, longing that he could still, after all this time, still feel the same way. Despite the way she had treated him, misjudged him, and been outspokenly judgmental towards him.

"That your feelings towards me may have changed," he admitted. "However, one word from you now will silence me on the subject forever."

Elizabeth opened her mouth to say that she had changed her mind. That he was exactly the man who, in both disposition and talents, would most suit her. That she was sorry for judging him based on her prejudices. She wanted to beg for his forgiveness and thank him for all that he had done for her. For Lydia. And now for Jane with Bingley.

But she thought better of it. She closed her mouth and, for the first time in her life, opted to remain silent. She wanted him and if it took silence on her part to possibly help it come to pass, it was a sacrifice she was willing to make. Sealing her fate, she lifted her head up slightly, signaling to him that she would not speak.

Encouraged, he took a step closer, and she once again lost her nerve. She met his eyes and the intensity frightened her. She glanced down and stared at his feet instead, trying to regain composure. Taking a deep breath, she once again lifted her eyes to his.

"You are the love of my life Elizabeth Bennet," whispered Darcy. "So I ask you now, half in anguish, half in hope, will you do me the great, great honor of taking me for your husband?"

Elizabeth breathed in a sigh of relief. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes… Yes…"

He smiled back at her and leaned forward. Her hand touched his cheek. She could feel the fresh stubble along his jawline. As she leaned in she instinctively closed her eyes and parted her lips slightly, wanting to breathe in the taste of him. He wrapped his arms protectively around her and she cherished the warmth. She moved her hands in order to bring him closer. One wrapped around his neck, the other wound its fingers through his dark hair. He was alive and he was hers. And this time, she was never going to let him go.


End file.
